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WALLS  AND  BARS 


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WALLS  AND  BARS 

By 
EUGENE  VICTOR  DEBS 


5 


SOCIALIST  PARTY 

2653  Washington  Blvd. 

Chicago,  Illinois 

Price  SI.  50 


Copyright,  1927,  by 
SOCIALIST  PARTY 


Press       of 
John  F.   Higgins 


376  W,  Monroe  St. 
Chicago,     lU. 


A  WOED. 

The  pen  of  the  author  of  this  book  has  been 
forever  silenced  by  death.  To  the  suffering  soula 
who  vision  life  only  within  gray  stone  walls, 
through  cold  steel  bars,  whose  days  are  sunless, 
whose  nights  are  starless,  from  whose  melancholy 
hearts  hope  has  fled — to  these,  all  of  them  victims 
of  a  cruel  and  inhuman  social  system,  this  volume 
is  re-dedicated  in  tender  and  loving  commemo- 
ration of  the  writer  by  his  brother  and  fellow- 
worker,  Theodore  Debs. 


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SYNOPSIS  OF  CONTENTS. 

I. 

The  Relation  of  Society  to  the  Convict. 

My  prison  experience  includes  three  county 
jails,  one  state  penitentiary,  and  one  federal 
prison. — I  have  no  personal  grievance  to  air. 
Special  favors  were  never  accorded  me,  nor  would 
I  accept  any. — Introduced  to  jail  life  in  Chicago, 
1894. — Eecognized  my  kinship  with  prisoners 
everywhere. — Prison  problem  is  co-related  with 
poverty  which  is  a  social  disease. — Any  of  us  may 
go  to  prison  at  any  time  for  breaking  the  law  or 
upholding  it. — My  spirit  was  never  imprisoned, 

n. 

The  Prison  as  an  Incubator  of  Crime. 

The  boy's  first  offense. — Convicted,  manacled 
and  taken  to  prison. — How  he  is  received  and 
what  happens  to  him. — How  he  feels  about  it. — 
He  is  thrown  into  contact  with  hardened  crim- 
inals; the  degenerating  process  begins. — A  few 
days  later  the  change  is  apparent. — He  acquires  a 
new  vocabulary. — His  self-respect  begins  to 
wane. — He  has  taken  the^  first  lesson  in  the  school 
of  vice  and  crime  from  which  he  is  to  graduate 
as  a  finished  product  at  the  expiration  of  his 
term. 

m. 

I  Become  U.  S.  Convict,  No.  9653. 

Transferred  from  Moundsville  penitentiary  in 
charge  of  an  United  States  Marshal  and  three 


deputies. — How  I  was  received  in  Atlanta  and  my 
first  impressions. — The  Bertillon  system  is  ap- 
plied.— Stripped,  bathed  and  put  in  prison  garb. 
— In  the  office  of  the  deputy  warden. — My  intro- 
duction to  the  warden. — Assigned  to  duty  in  the 
clothing  room. — I  begin  to  serve  my  sentence. 

IV. 

Sharing  the  Lot  of  Les  Miserables. 

My  cell  and  cell  mates. — The  prison  routine. — 
Prison  food  and  how  it  is  served. — My  first  in- 
fraction of  prison  rules;  how  it  resulted  and  the 
outcome. — Caged  fourteen  hours  daily. — Getting 
in  touch  with  my  fellow  prisoners  in  the  stock- 
ade. 

V. 

Transferred  From  My  Cell  to  the  Hospital. 

Mingling  with  the  diseased,  the  maimed  and 
the  infirm. — The  drug  addicts  and  their  treat- 
ment.— Hospital  guard  clubs  a  convict. — The 
blood-covered  victim  and  the  dismissal  of  the 
guard. — The  dying  and  the  dead. — Eeading  and 
writing  their  letters. — My  voluntary  ministra- 
tions to  the  suffering. — The  moral  atmosphere 
changes. 

VI. 

Visitors  and  Visiting. 

Privileges  and  the  lack  of  them. — Restrictions 
upon  visits. — A  guard  sits  between  the  convict 
and  his  visitor  to  overhear. — A  state  delegation 
pays  me  a  call. — The  curiosity  of  casual  visitors 
to  see  me  is  denied. — My  visitors  included  Mel- 
ville E.  Stone,  Samuel  Gompers,  Lincoln  Steffens, 


Norman  Hapgood,  Clarence  Darrow,  and  other 
prominent  personages. 

vn. 

The  1920  Campaign  for  President. 

Unanimous  nomination  by  the  New  York  con- 
vention.— The  notification  committee  appears. — 
Eeception  in  the  warden's  office. — Addressing  the 
voters  through  weekly  statements  issued  from 
prison. — The  inmates  are  enthusiastic  and  as- 
sure the  candidate  he  will  carry  the  prison  unani- 
mously.— Receiving  the  returns  on  election  night 
in  the  warden's  office. — I  concede  Harding's  elec- 
tion to  waiting  reporters. 

VIII. 

A  Christmas  Eve  Reception. 

My  fellow  prisoners  spread  a  bounteous  table 
of  their  gifts  and  make  me  their  guest  of  honor. — 
President  Wilson  denies  Attorney  General  Pal- 
mer's recommendation  for  my  release,  Christmas, 
1920. — The  beautiful  aspect  of  prison  fellowship. 
— My  comment  on  President  Wilson  results  in  the 
suspension  of  my  writing  and  visiting  privileges, 
and  I  am  placed  incommunicado. — The  instant 
and  widespread  protest,  that  followed,  forces 
revocation  of  the  order. 

IX. 

Leaving  the  Prison. 

Sensational  demonstration  at  parting  and 
agitation  of  the  inmates.  Leaving  them  behind 
overcame  me  as  with  a  sense  of  desertion  and 
guilt. — Pallid  faces  pressed  hard  against  the 
bars  of  that  living  tomb. — Outside  the  portals  and 


midway  across  the  reservation,  the  warden  and 
his  deputy  stood  aghast  as  there  came  from  the 
prison  a  demonstration  repeated  over  and  over. — 
Never  had  the  rules  been  thus  violated  at  the  de- 
parture of  an  inmate. — Tearful,  haunted  faces, 
swept  by  emotion,  forgot  for  the  moment  hard 
and  forbidding  prison  rules,  giving  a  last  roar  of 
emotion  as  our  auto  was  lost  in  the  distance. 

X. 

General  Prison  Conditions. 

The  guns  on  the  walls. — The  clubs  in  the  hands 
of  the  guards. — Brutal,  stupid  and  unnecessary 
rules. — Guards  with  clubs  preside  over  devotion- 
al services. — Inmates  at  the  mercy  of  prison 
guards. — Work  of  convicts  grudgingly  done. — 
Stool  pigeons  play  their  nefarious  part. — The 
maddening  monotony  and  its  demoralizing  re- 
sults. 

XI. 

Poverty  Populates  the  Prison. 

With  but  few  exceptions  the  poor  go  to  prison. 
— The  moneyless  man  in  court. — The  law's  delay. 
— Holding  the  accused  in  jail  under  graft  system 
of  petty  officials. — In  the  pillory  of  a  courtroom. 
— Foulness  of  county  jails  and  contamination  of 
youthful  first  offenders. — Perversion  of  natural 
sex  instincts  and  resultant  vice  and  immorality. 

xn. 

Creating  the  Criminal. 

How  the  lack  of  money  presumes  guilt  in  ad- 
vance of  trial. — Poverty  the  deadly  nemesis  on  the 
track  of  accused. — The  process  of  creating  the 
criminal. — The  arrest,  trial  and  conviction  as  now 


conducted,  and  the  sentence  that  follows  as  now 
served,  almost  irrevocably  doom  the  victim  to 
physical  and  moral  wreckage. — Why  the  prison 
as  a  reformatory  is  not  only  a  flat  failure,  but  a 
promotor  of  that  which  it  blindly  and  stupidly 
attempts  to  suppress. 

xni. 

How  I  Would  Manage  the  Prison. 

The  civil  service  farce  in  relation  to  the  guards. 
— The  prison  under  control  of  absent  politicians 
who  have  never  seen  it. — How  the  drug  traffic 
thrives. — Conflicting  rules  and  a  dozen  petty 
prisons  behind  the  same  walls. — The  planless, 
purposeless  and  aimless  way  of  doing  things. — 
Eobbing  the  prisoners  and  starving  their  fami- 
lies.— The  redeeming  power  of  kindness  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  the  brutalizing  power  of  cruelty. — The 
human  element  actually  applied  in  Atlanta  prison 
and  its  amazing  results. — A  challenge  to  the  pow- 
ers and  personalities  that  control  jails,  prisons 
and  penitentiaries  in  the  United  States. 

XIV. 

Capitalism  and  Crime. 

Capitalism  and  crime  almost  synonymous 
terms. — Private  ownership  of  the  means  of  the 
common  life  at  bottom  of  prison  evil. — Capital- 
ism must  have  prisons  to  protect  itself  from  the  V 
criminals  it  has  created. — Proud  of  its  prisons 
which  fitly  symbolize  the  character  of  its  institu- 
tions.— The  letter  of  a  convict  forty-eight  years 
behind  the  bars. 


XV. 

Poverty  and  the  Pbison. 

Intimate  relation  between  poor-house  and 
prison. — Poverty  the  common  lot  of  the  great 
mass  of  mankind. — It  is  poverty  from  which  the 
slums,  the  red  light  district,  the  asylums,  the 
jails  and  prisons  are  mainly  recruited. — No  ex- 
cuse today  for  widespread  poverty. — A  barbarous 
judge  recommends  re-establishment  of  the  whip- 
ping post. — ^Abolish  the  social  system  that  makes 
the  prison  necessary  and  populates  it  with  the 
victims  of  poverty. 

XVI. 

Socialism  and  the  Prison. 

Socialism  and  prison  antagonistic  terms. — So- 
cialism will  abolish  the  prison  as  it  is  today  by 
removing  its  cause. — Capitalism  and  crime  have 
had  their  day  and  must  go. — The  working  class  to 
become  the  sovereign  rulers  of  the  world. — The 
triumph  of  socialism  will  mean  the  liberation  of 
humanity  throughout  the  world. 

LEAVING  THE  PRISON. 
XVII. 

Prison  Labor,  Its  Effects  on  Industry 
AND  Trade. 

Address  before  the  Nineteenth  Century  Club  at 
Delmonico's,  New  York  City,  March  21st,  1899. 

xvni. 

Studies  Behind  Prison  Walls. 
An  article  reproduced  by  the  courtesy  of  its 


publishers  from  the  Century  Magazine  for  July, 
1922. 

XIX. 

Wasting  Life. 

Eeproduced  from  The  World  Tomorrow  for 
August,  1922,  by  the  courtesy  of  its  publishers. 


''The  social  environment  is  the  cultural  me- 
dium of  criminality;  the  criminal  is  the  microbe — 
an  element  that  becomes  important  only  when  it 
finds  a  medium  which  will  cause  it  to  ferment. 
Every  society  has  the  criminals  it  deserves^'. 

— Lascussagne. 


MY  PEISON  CEEED. 

While  there  is  a  lower  class  I  am  in  it; 
While  there  is  a  criminal  element  I  am  of  it; 
While  there 's  a  soul  in  prison  I  am  not  free. 


BEYOND. 

Beyond  these  walls, 

Sweet  Freedom  calls; 
In  accents  clear  and  brave  she  speaks, 
And  lo !  my  spirit  scales  the  peaks. 

Beyond  these  bars, 

I  see  the  stars; 
God's  glittering  heralds  beckon  me — 
My  soul  is  winged;  Behold,  I'm  free! 


To  the  countless  thousands  of  my 
brothers  and  sisters  who  have  suf- 
fered the  cruel  and  pitiless  torture 
and  degradation  of  imprisonment 
in  the  jails,  penitentiaries  and 
other  barbarous  and  brutalizing 
penal  institutions  of  capitalism  un- 
der our  much-vaunted  Christian 
civilization,  and  who  in  consequence 
now  bear  the  ineffaceable  brand  of 
convicts  and  criminals,  this  volume 
is  dedicated  with  affection  and  de- 
votion by  one  of  their  number. 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT  AND  APPRECIATION 

The  deep,  sincere  and  grateful  acknowledg- 
ment due  the  many  friends  and  comrades,  near 
and  far,  not  only  in  this  country  but  beyond  the 
seas,  who  followed  me  so  faithfully  through  the 
very  prison  doors  and  who  sympathized  with  all 
their  loyal  hearts  and  literally  shared  every  hour 
of  my  imprisonment,  can  never  be  expressed  in 
words.  By  day  and  by  night  these  devoted  com- 
rades were  with  me,  so  near  that  I  could  feel  the 
touch  of  their  loving  hands  and  hear  their  loyal 
heart-beats  in  my  prison  cell. 

From  all  directions,  by  mail  and  by  wire,  there 
came  the  message  of  comfort  and  good  cheer  from 
men,  women  and  children,  thousands  upon  thou- 
sands of  them,  the  number  increasing  with  the 
passing  days  to  attest  the  growing  sympathy  and 
loyalty  of  the  host  of  steadfast  devotees. 

How  lightly  the  sentence  I  was  serving  rested 
upon  me  with  such  a  noble  legion  of  loving  com- 
rades to  cheer  and  sustain  me  every  moment  of 
my  imprisonment !  To  them  I  owe  a  debt  of  love 
and  gratitude  that  never  can  be  paid.  They  all 
but  entered  the  prison  and  served  my  sentence 
for  me ;  they  not  only  sent  me  their  precious  and 
heartening  messages,  food  prepared  with  their 
own  dear  hands,  wearing  apparel,  and  other  gifts 
as  testimonials  of  their  faith  and  constancy,  but 


16  WALLS  AlTD  BAB6 

they  came  in  person  over  long  and  wearied 
stretches  of  travel  to  give  aid  and  comfort  and 
affectionate  ministration  in  every  way  in  their 
power. 

The  tender  regard,  the  loving  care,  the  unfail- 
ing devotion  shown  to  my  wife  to  relieve  her 
loneliness  and  to  enable  her  to  bear  with  fortitude 
the  trials  of  my  prison  days;  the  aid  and  as- 
sistance so  freely  and  generously  given  to  my 
brother  in  meeting  party  demands  and  in  the  dis- 
charge of  official  duties  in  my  absence,  constitute 
a  chapter  of  loving  service  and  self-consecration, 
a  manifestation  of  the  utter  divinity  of  human 
comradeship  that  can  not  be  traced  upon  the 
written  page  but  must  remain  forever  a  hallowed 
memory. 

To  these  dear  friends  and  comrades,  beloved 
and  appreciated  beyond  expression,  I  now  make 
grateful  acknowledgement  and  give  thanks  with 
all  my  heart.  I  can  not  here  attempt  to  call  them 
all  by  name,  but  vividly  do  they  appear  before  me 
in  their  radiant  and  inspiring  comradeship,  and  to 
each  and  all  of  them  do  I  give  hail  and  greeting 
and  pledge  my  love,  my  gratitude  and  my  unre- 
laxing  fidelity  to  the  cause  they  so  bravely  sus- 
tained and  vindicated  during  my  prison  days. 

To  these  brave,  noble  hearts  I  owe  my  life  and 
liberation.  But  for  their  loyal  devotion  and  un- 
tiring agitation  my  life  would  have  gone  out  be- 
hind prison  walls. 

And  now  in  turn  I  sense  the  solemn  duty  to 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT   AND   APPBECIATION  17 

join  and  persist  in  the  demand  for  the  release  of 
all  other  comrades  still  immured  in  dungeon  cells 
until  the  last  prisoner  of  the  class  war  has  secured 
his  liberation. 


INTRODUCTION. 

While  still  an  inmate  of  the  United  States 
Penitentiary  at  Atlanta,  Georgia,  the  suggestion 
was  made  to  me  by  interested  publishers  that 
upon  my  release  1  write  a  series  of  articles  de- 
scribing my  prison  experience.  The  sugges- 
tion, coming  from  various  sources,  appealed  to 
me  for  the  reason  that  I  saw  in  it  an  oppor- 
tunity to  give  the  general  public  certain  infor- 
mation in  regard  to  the  prison,  based  upon  my 
personal  observation  and  experience,  that  I 
hoped  might  result  in  some  beneficial  changes  in 
the  management  of  prisons  and  in  the  treatment 
of  their  inmates. 

While  serving  my  term  at  Atlanta  I  saw  so 
much  that  offended  me,  as  being  needlessly  cruel 
and  abusive;  I  came  in  direct  contact  with  so 
many  of  the  victims  of  prison  mismanagement 
and  its  harsh  and  inhuman  regulations,  that  I 
resolved  upon  my  release  to  espouse  the  cause 
of  these  unfortunates  and  do  what  was  in  my 
power  to  put  an  end  to  the  wrongs  and  abuses 
of  which  they  were  the  victims  under  the  present 
system. 

If  there  are  men  and  women  anywhere  among 
us  who  need  to  have  their  condition  looked  into 
in  an  enlightened,  sympathetic  and  helpful  way; 
if  there  are  any  whose  very  helplessness  should 


INTEODUCTION  19 

excite  our  interest,  to  say  nothing  of  our  com- 
passion as  human  beings,  they  are  the  inmates  of 
our  jails,  prisons  and  penitentiaries,  hidden 
from  our  view  by  grim  walls,  who  suffer  in 
silence,  and  whose  cries  are  not  permitted  to  reach 
our  ears. 

The  inmates  of  prisons  are  not  the  irretriev- 
ably vicious  and  depraved  element  they  are 
commonly  believed  to  be,  but  upon  the  average 
they  are  like  ourselves,  and  it  is  more  often  their 
misfortune  than  their  crime  that  is  responsible 
for  their  plight.  If  these  prisoners  were  treated 
as  they  should  be,  with  due  regard  to  all  the 
circumstances  surrounding  their  cases,  a  very 
great  majority  of  them,  instead  of  being  dis- 
eased, crazed  and  wrecked  morally  and  physic- 
ally under  a  cruel  and  degrading  prison  system, 
would  be  reclaimed  and  restored  to  societv,  the 
better,  not  the  worse,  for  their  experience. 

In  this,  society  as  well  as  the  individual  would 
be  the  gainer,  and  to  that  extent  crime  in  the 
community  would  cease. 

Shortly  after  my  release  negotiations  were 
concluded  with  the  Bell  Syndicate  of  New  York 
for  the  publication  of  a  series  of  prison  articles 
to  appear  simultaneously  in  newspapers  sub- 
scribing for  them  throughout  the  country.  These 
articles,  written  for  the  capitalist-owned  dailies, 
had  to  be  prepared  with  a  distinct  reserve  to 
insure  their  publication.  This  concession  had  to 
be  made   to   avoid   peremptory  refusal   of  any 


20  WALLS   AND   BAES 

dieariiig  at  all  through  the  public  press  of  the 
abuses  and  crimes  which  cried  to  heaven  from 
behind  prison  walls. 

It  was  therefore  made  a  specific  condition  by 
the  Syndicate  and  a  guarantee  to  the  papers 
subscribing  for  the  articles  that  they  should  con- 
tain no  ^  ^  propaganda ".  The  reason  for  this 
precaution  on  the  part  of  the  capitalist  press  is 
perfectly  obvious  and  self-evident.  Any  intelli- 
gent understanding  of  the  prison  system  as  it 
now  exists,  based  upon  a  true  knowledge  of  the 
graft  and  corruption  which  prevail  in  its  manage- 
ment, and  of  the  appalling  vice  and  immorality, 
cruelty  and  crime  for  which  the  prison  is  re- 
sponsible and  of  which  the  inmates  are  the  help- 
less victims,  would  inevitably  mean  the  im- 
peachment of  our  smug  and  self-complacent  capi- 
talist society  at  the  bar  of  civilization,  and  the 
utter  condemnation  of  the  capitalist  system  of 
which  the  prison  is  a  necessary  adjunct,  and  of 
which  these  rich  and  powerful  papers  are  the 
official  organs  and  mouthpieces. 

It  was  this  that  these  papers  had  in  mind  when 
the  assurance  had  to  be  given  them  that  my  arti- 
cles would  contain  no  *^  propaganda '\ 

They  did  not  want,  nor  do  they  now,  the  truth, 
the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth, 
about  our  corrupt,  brutalizing  and  criminal- 
breeding  prison  system  to  be  known  to  the  peo- 
ple, for  they  know  not  only  that  such  a  revelation 
would  shock  and  scandalize  the  country  but  that 


INTBODUCTION  21 

it  would  expose  and  condemn  the  impoverishing, 
enslaving  and  crime-inciting  social  system  of 
which  they  are  the  organs  and  beneficiaries. 

When  the  opening  article  appeared  the  fol- 
lowing bracketed  notice  was  placed  at  its  head : 

(**The  views  expressed  in  this  article  and  in 
the  others  of  this  series  are  those  of  Eugene 
V.  Debs  and  not  of  the  Bell  Syndicate,  Inc. 
Mr.  Debs  has  agreed  not  to  insert  any  political 
propaganda  into  the  article/') 

Well  does  the  capitalist  press  know  that  the 
naked  truth  about  our  foul  prison  system  would 
be  the  deadliest  kind  of  ^ Apolitical  propaganda'' 
against  the  capitalist  system  which  created  and 
is  responsible  for  that  festering  evil,  and  against 
the  equally  foul  political  parties  which  uphold 
capitalism  and  perpetuate  its  corrupt  and  crim- 
inal misrule. 

The  capitalist  dailies  were  desirous  enough  to 
have  the  articles,  knowing  they  would  create  in- 
terest and  have  a  wide  reading,  thus  proving  a 
feature  of  value  to  them,  but  tiiey  wanted  them 
toned  down,  emasculated  in  fact,  to  render  them 
harmless  as  possible  and  at  the  same  time  secure 
them  against  the  danger  they  so  mortally  dread 
of  containing  other  than  their  own  ^^  political 
propaganda".  They  insist  upon  a  monopoly  of 
their  own  brand,  and  such  is  their  faith  in  its 
efficacy,  that  they  will  tolerate  no  encroach- 
ment upon  their  vested  propaganda  interests. 


22  WALLS   AND   BARS 

Soon  after  the  first  article  appeared  complaints 
were  made  from  various  quarters  that  there  was 
*' propaganda'^  in  the  series.  This  justified 
them  in  expunging  entire  paragraphs  and  finally 
in  not  publishing  at  all  the  closing  articles  of 
the  series. 

The  first  eight  and  the  tenth  to  the  thirteenth 
chapters  in  this  book  constitute  the  series  of 
twelve  articles  given  to  the  daily  press  through 
the  Bell  Syndicate  and  are  here  reprinted  through 
their  courtesy. 

In  this  connection  it  should  be  said  that  but 
nine  of  the  twelve  articles  furnished  the  press 
were  published,  and  in  some  instances  the  papers 
struck  out  parts  and  paragraphs  they  did  not 
like  on  the  ground  that  they  were  ^ '  propaganda ' ' 
or  ^^too  radical",  thus  withholding  from  their 
readers  the  very  points  of  information  and  the 
very  vital  passages  to  which  the  writer  was  most 
anxious  to  give  publicity  for  the  end  he  had  in 
view. 

To  the  twelve  original  articles  there  have  been 
added  three  chapters  for  the  purpose  not  only  of 
amplifying  the  treatment  of  the  subject,  but  that 
the  writer  might  discuss  more  critically  and 
fundamentally  the  vital  phases  of  the  prison 
question,  including  especially  the  cause  of  and  the 
responsibility  for  this  crying  evil,  than  was  pos- 
sible in  the  newspaper  articles. 

There  has  also  been  added  an  Address  before 
the   Nineteenth    Century    Club   at   Delmonico's, 


INTEODUCTiON  23 

New  York  City,  on  Prison;  Labor,  Its  Effects  on 
Industry  and  Trade,  March  21st.,  1899;  an  arti- 
cle contributed  to  the  Century  Magazine  for  July, 
1922,  and  another  to  The  World  Tomorrow  for 
August,  1922,  and  reproduced  here  by  the  cour- 
tesy of  those  periodicals. 

In  the  latter  chapters  I  have  undertaken  to 
show  that  the  prison  in  our  modern  life  is  essen- 
tially a  capitalistic  institution,  an  inherent  and 
inseparable  part  of  the  social  and  economic  sys- 
tem under  which  the  mass  of  mankind  are  ruth- 
lessly exploited  and  kept  in  an  impoverished 
state,  as  a  result  of  which  the  struggle  for  ex- 
istence, cruel  and  relentless  at  best,  drives  thou- 
sands of  its  victims  into  the  commission  of  of- 
fenses which  they  are  forced  to  expiate  in  the 
dungeons  provided  for  them  by  their  masters. 

The  prison  as  a  rule,  to  which  there  are  few 
exceptions,  is  for  the  poor. 

The  owning  and  ruling  class  hold  the  keys  of 
the  prison  the  same  as  they  do  of  the  mill  and 
mine.  They  are  the  keepers  of  both  and  their 
exploited  slaves  are  the  inmates  and  victims  of 
both. 

As  long  as  the  people  are  satisfied  with  capital- 
ism they  will  have  to  bear  its  consequences  in  the 
prison  sentences  imposed  upon  increasing  num- 
bers of  them,  and  also  bear  the  poverty  and  mis- 
ery which  fall  to  the  lot  of  those  who  toil  and  pro- 
duce the  wealth  of  the  nation. 

The  prison  at  present  is  at  best  a  monumental 


24  WALLS   AND   BABS 

evil  and  a  buming  shame  to  society.  It  ought  not 
merely  to  be  reformed  but  abolished  as  an  in- 
stitution for  the  punishment  and  degradation  of 
imfortunate  human  beings. 

EUGENE  V.  DEBS. 
Terre  Haute,  Indiana,  July  1st.,  1926. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  Eelation  of  Society  to  the  Convict. 

A  prison  is  a  cross  section  of  society  in  which 
every  human  strain  is  clearly  revealed.  An 
average  prison,  and  its  inmates,  in  point  of 
character,  intelligence  and  habits,  will  compare 
favorably  with  any  similar  number  of  persons 
outside  of  prison  walls. 

I  believe  that  my  enemies,  as  well  as  my 
friends,  will  concede  to  me  the  right  to  arrive 
at  some  conclusions  with  respect  to  prisons  and 
prisoners  by  virtue  of  my  personal  experience, 
for  I  have  been  an  inmate  of  three  county  jails, 
one  state  jDrison  and  one  federal  penitentiary. 
A  total  of  almost  four  vears  of  mv  life  has  been 
spent  behind  the  bars  as  a  common  prisoner;  but 
an  experience  of  such  a  nature  cannot  be  meas- 
ured in  point  of  years.  It  is  measured  by  the 
capacity  to  see,  to  feel  and  to  comprehend  the 
social  significance  and  the  human  import  of  the 
prison  in  its  relation  to  society. 

In  the  very  beginning  I  desire  to  stress  the 
point  that  I  have  no  personal  grievance  to  air  as 
a  result  of  my  imprisonment.  I  was  never  per- 
sonally mistreated,  and  no  man  was  ever  brutal 
to  me.  On  the  other  hand,  during  my  prison 
years  I  was  treated  uniformly  with  a  peculiar 


26  WALLS  AND  BAES 

personal  kindliness  by  my  fellow-prisoners,  and 
not  infrequently  by  officials.  I  do  not  mean  to 
imply  that  any  special  favors  were  ever  accorded 
me.  I  never  requested  nor  would  I  accept  any- 
thing that  could  not  be  obtained  on  the  same 
basis  by  the  humblest  prisoner.  I  realized  that  I 
was  a  convict,  and  as  such  I  chose  to  share  the 
lot  of  those  around  me  on  the  same  rigorous 
terms  that  were  imposed  upon  all. 

It  is  true  that  I  have  taken  an  active  part  in 
public  affairs  for  the  past  forty  years.  In  a 
consecutive  period  of  that  length  a  man  is  bound 
to  acquire  a  reputation  of  one  kind  or  another. 
My  adversaries  and  I  are  alike  perfectly  satis- 
fied with  the  sort  of  reputation  they  have  given 
me.  A  man  should  take  to  himself  no  discom- 
fort from  an  opinion  expressed  or  implied  by 
his  adversary,  but  it  is  difficult,  and  often-times 
humiliating  to  attempt  to  justify  the  kindness  of 
one's  friends.  When  my  enemies  do  not  indulge 
in  calumny  I  find  it  exceedingly  difficult  to  an- 
swer their  charges  against  me.  In  fact,  I  am 
guilty  of  believing  in  a  broader  humanity  and 
a  nobler  civilization.  I  am  guilty  also  of  being 
opposed  to  force  and  violence.  I  am  guilty  of 
believing  that  the  human  race  can  be  humanized 
and  enriched  in  every  spiritual  inference  through 
the  saner  and  more  beneficent  processes  of  peace- 
ful persuasion  applied  to  material  problems 
rather  than  through  wars,  riots  and  bloodshed. 
I  went  to  prison  because  I  was  guilty  of  believing 


RELATION   OF   SOCIETY   TO   THE   CONVICT  27 

these  things.  I  have  dedicated  my  life  to  these 
beliefs  and  shall  continue  to  embrace  them  to 
the  end. 

My  first  prison  experience  occurred  in  1894 
when,  as  president  of  the  American  Railway 
Union  I  was  locked  up  in  the  Cook  County  Jail, 
Chicago,  because  of  my  activities  in  the  great 
railroad  strike  that  was  in  full  force  at  that 
time.  I  was  given  a  cell  occupied  by  five  other 
men.  It  was  infested  with  vermin,  and  sewer 
rats  scurried  back  and  forth  over  the  floors  of 
that  human  cesspool  in  such  numbers  that  it  was 
almost  impossible  for  me  to  place  my  feet  on 
the  stone  floor.  Those  rats  were  nearly  as  big 
as  cats,  and  vicious.  I  recall  a  deputy  jailer 
passing  one  day  with  a  fox-terrier.  I  asked  him 
to  please  leave  his  dog  in  my  cell  for  a  little 
while  so  that  the  rat  population  might  thereby  be 
reduced.  He  agreed,  and  the  dog  was  locked  up 
with  us,  but  not  for  long,  for  when  two  or  three 
sewer  rats  appeared  the  terrier  let  out  such  an 
appealing  howl  that  the  jailer  came  and  saved 
him  from  being  devoured. 

I  recall  seeing  my  fellow  inmates  of  Cook 
County  Jail  stripping  themselves  to  their  waists 
to  scratch  the  bites  inflicted  by  all  manner  of 
nameless  vermin,  and  when  they  were  through 
the  blood  would  trickle  down  their  bare  bodies  in 
tiny  red  rivulets.  Such  was  the  torture  suffered 
by  these  men  who  as  yet  had  been  convicted  of  no 
crime,  but  who  were  awaiting  trial.    I  was  given 


28  WALLS   AND   BABS 

a  cell  that  a  guard  took  the  pains  to  tell  me  had 
been  occupied  by  Prendergast,  who  assassinated 
Mayor  Carter  H.  Harrison.  He  showed  me  the 
bloody  rope  with  which  Prendergast  had  been 
hanged  and  intimated  with  apparent  glee  spark- 
ling in  his  eyes  that  the  same  fate  awaited  me. 
His  intimation  was  perhaps  predicated  upon  what 
he  read  in  the  newspapers  of  that  period,  for  my 
associates  and  I  were  accused  of  every  conceiv- 
able crime  in  connection  with  that  historic  strike. 
I  was  shown  the  cells  that  had  been  occupied  by 
the  Chicago  anarchists  who  were  hanged,  and  was 
told  that  the  gallows  awaited  the  man  in  this 
countiy  who  strove  to  better  the  living  conditions 
of  his  fellowmen. 

Such  was  my  introduction  to  prison  life.  I 
can  never  forget  the  sobbing  and  screaming  that 
I  heard,  while  in  Cook  County  Jail,  from  the 
fifty  or  more  women  prisoners  who  were  there. 
From  that  moment  I  felt  my  kinship  with  every 
human  being  in  prison,  and  I  made  a  solemn  res- 
olution with  myself  that  if  ever  the  time  came 
and  I  could  be  of  any  assistance  to  those  nn- 
fortunate  souls,  I  would  embrace  the  opportunity 
with  every  ounce  of  my  strength.  I  felt  myself 
on  the  same  human  level  with  those  Chicago 
prisoners.  I  was  not  one  whit  better  than  they. 
I  felt  that  they  had  done  the  best  they  could  with 
their  physical  and  mental  equipment  to  improve 
their  sad  lot  in  life,  just  as  I  had  employed  my 
physical  and  mental   equipment  in  the  service 


0^  THE 
JNIYERSIT  '  TF  ILLIM^IF 


RELATION    OF   SOCIETY   TO   THE    CONVICT  29 

of  those  about  me,  to  whom  I  was  responsible, 
whose  lot  I  shared, — and  the  energy  expended  had 
landed  us  both  in  jail.  There  we  were  on  a  level 
with  each  other. 

With  my  associate  officers  of  the  American 
Eailway  Union  I  was  transferred  to  the  McHenry 
County  Jail,  Woodstock,  Illinois,  where  I  served 
a  six  months'  sentence  in  1895  for  contempt  of 
court  in  connection  with  the  federal  proceedings 
that  grew  out  of  the  Pullman  strike  in  1894.  My  as- 
sociates served  three  months,  but  my  time  was 
doubled  because  the  federal  judges  considered 
me  a  dangerous  man  and  a  menace  to  society. 
In  the  years  that  intervened  some  national  at- 
tention was  paid  to  me  because  I  happened  to 
have  been  named  a  presidential  candidate  in  sev- 
eral successive  camiDaigns. 

But  there  was  no  real  rejoicing  from  the  in- 
fluential and  powerful  side  of  our  national  life 
until  June,  1918,  when  I  was  arrested  by  Depart- 
ment of  Justice  agents  in  Cleveland  for  a  speech 
that  I  had  delivered  in  Canton,  Ohio.  I  was  taken 
to  the  Cuyahoga  County  Jail,  and  when  the  in- 
mates heard  that  I  was  in  prison  with  them  there 
was  a  mild  to-do  about  it,  and  they  congratulated 
me  through  their  cells.  A  deputy  observed  the 
fraternity  that  had  sprung  up,  and  I  was  re- 
moved to  a  more  remote  comer.  Just  after  I  re- 
tired that  Sunday  midnight  I  heard  a  voice  call- 
ing my  name  through  a  small  aperture  and  in- 
quiring if  I  were  asleep.    I  replied  no. 


30  WALLS  AND   BABS 

**Well,  you've  been  nominated  for  Congress 
from  the  Fifth  District  in  Indiana.  Good  luck 
to  you!'^  he  said. 

When  a  jury  in  the  federal  court  in  Cleveland 
found  me  guilty  of  violating  the  Espionage  Law, 
through  a  speech  delivered  in  Canton  on  June 
16,  1918,  Judge  Westenhaver  sentenced  me  to 
serve  ten  years  in  the  West  Virginia  State  Pen- 
itentiary, at  Moundsville.  This  prison  had  en- 
tered into  an  agreement  with  the  government  to 
receive  and  hold  federal  prisoners  for  the  sum 
of  forty  cents  per  day  per  prisoner.  On  June  2, 
1919,  the  State  Board  of  Control  wrote  a  letter 
to  the  Federal  Superintendent  of  Prisons  com- 
plaining that  my  presence  had  cost  the  state  $500 
a  month  for  extra  guards  and  requested  that  the 
government  send  more  federal  prisoners  to 
Moundsville  to  meet  this  expense.  The  govern- 
ment could  not  see  its  way  clear  to  do  this,  since 
it  was  claimed  there  was  plenty  of  room  at  At- 
lanta, and  if,  as  the  State  Board  of  Control 
averred,  I  was  a  liability  rather  than  an  asset 
to  the  State,  the  government  would  transfer  me 
to  its  own  federal  prison  at  Atlanta,  which  it  did 
on  June  13,  1919,  exactly  two  months  after  the 
date  on  which  I  began  to  serve  my  ten  years  im- 
prisonment— a  sentence  which  was  communted 
by  President  Warren  G.  Harding  on  Christmas 
day,  1922. 

I  was  aware  of  a  marvelous  change  that  came 
over  me  during  and  immediately  after  my  first 


RELATION"   OF   SOCIETY   TO   THE    CONVICT  31 

incarceration.  Before  that  time  I  had  looked 
upon  prisons  and  prisoners  as  a  rather  sad  affair, 
;biit  a  condition  that  somehow  could  not  be  rem- 
edied. It  was  not  until  I  was  a  prisoner  myself 
that  I  realized,  and  fully  comprehended,  the  prison 
problem  and  the  responsibility  that,  in  the  last 
analysis,  falls  directly  upon  society  itself. 

The  prison  problem  is  directly  co-related  with 
poverty,  and  poverty  as  we  see  it  today  is  es- 
sentially a  social  disease.  It  is  a  cancerous 
growth  in  a  vulnerable  spot  of  the  social  system. 
There  should  be  no  poverty  among  hard-working 
people.  Those  who  produce  should  have,  but  we 
know  that  those  who  produce  the  most — that  is, 
those  who  work  hardest,  and  at  the  most  difficult 
and  most  menial  tasks,  have  the  least.  But  of 
this  I  shall  have  more  to  say.  After  all,  the 
purpose  of  these  chapters  is  to  set  forth  the 
prison  problem  as  one  of  the  most  vital  concerns 
of  present  day  society.  A  prison  is  an  institution 
to  which  any  of  us  may  go  at  any  time.  Some  of 
us  go  to  prison  for  breaking  the  law,  and  some  of 
US  for  upholding  and  abiding  by  the  Constitution 
to  which  the  law  is  supposed  to  adhere.  Some 
go  to  prison  for  killing  their  fellowmen,  and 
others  for  believing  that  murder  is  a  violation  of 
one  of  the  Commandments.  Some  go  to  prison 
for  stealing,  and  others  for  believing  that  a  better 
system  can  be  provided  and  maintained  than  one 
that  makes  it  necessary  for  a  man  to  steal  in  order 
to  live. 


32  WALLS  AND   BAES 

The  prison  has  always  been  a  part  of  human 
society.  It  has  always  been  deemed  an  essential 
factor  in  organized  society.  The  prison  has  its 
place  and  its  purpose  in  every  civilized  nation. 
It  is  only  in  uncivilized  places  that  you  will  not 
find  the  prison.  Man  is  the  only  animal  that 
constructs  a  cage  for  his  neighbor  and  puts  him 
in  it.  To  punish  by  imprisonment,  involving 
torture  in  every  conceivable  form,  is  a  most 
tragic  phase  in  the  annals  of  mankind.  The 
ancient  idea  was  that  the  more  cruel  the  punish- 
ment the  more  certain  the  reformation.  This 
idea,  fortunately,  has  to  a  great  extent  receded 
into  the  limbo  of  savagery  whence  it  sprang.  We 
now  know  that  brutality  iDegets  brutality,  and  we 
know  that  through  the  centuries  there  has  been 
a  steady  modification  of  discipline  and  method  in 
the  treatment  of  prisoners.  I  will  concede  that 
the  prison  today  is  not  nearly  as  barbarous  as 
it  was  in  the  past,  but  there  is  yet  room  for  vast 
improvement,  and  it  is  for  the  purpose  of  causing 
to  be  corrected  some  of  the  crying  evils  that 
obtain  in  present  day  prisons  and  making  pos- 
sible such  changes  in  our  penal  system  as  will 
mitigate  the  unnecessary  suffering  of  the  help- 
less and  unfortunate  inmates  that  I  set  myself 
the  task  of  writing  these  articles  before  I  turn  my 
attention  to  anything  else. 

It  has  been  demonstrated  beyond  cavil  that  the 
more  favorable  prison  conditions  are  to  the  in- 
mates, the  better  is  the  result  for  society.    We 


BELATION    OF   SOCIETY   TO   THE    CONVICT  33 

should  bear  in  mind  that  few  men  go  to  prison 
for  life,  and  the  force  that  swept  them  into  prison 
sweeps  them  out  again,  and  they  must  go  back 
into  the  social  stream  and  fight  for  a  living.  I 
have  heard  people  refer  to  the  ^*  criminal  coun- 
tenance ' '.  I  never  saw  one.  Any  man  or  woman 
looks  like  a  criminal  behind  bars.  Criminality  is 
often  a  state  of  mind  created  by  circumstances 
or  conditions  which  a  person  has  no  power  to 
control  or  direct;  he  may  be  swamped  by  over- 
whelming influences  that  promise  but  one  avenue 
to  peace  of  mind;  in  sheer  desperation  the  dis- 
tressed victim  may  choose  the  one  way,  only  to 
find  he  has  broken  the  law — and  at  the  end  of 
the  tape  loom  the  turrets  of  the  prison.  Once  a 
convict  always  a  convict.  That  is  one  brand  that 
is  never  outworn  by  time. 

How  many  people  in  your  community  would  be 
out  of  prison  if  they  would  frankly  confess  their 
sins  against  society  and  the  law  were  enforced 
against  them"? 

How  many  lash  and  accuse  themselves  of 
nameless  and  unnumbered  crimes  for  which  there 
is  no  punishment  save  the  torment  visited  upon 
the  individual  conscience!  Yet,  they  who  so  ac- 
cuse themselves,  assuming  there  exist  reasons  to 
warrant  accusation,  would  never  admit  to  them- 
selves the  possession  of  a  criminal  countenance. 
In  Atlanta  Prison  I  made  it  a  point  to  seek  out 
those  men  that  were  called  '^bad''.  I  found  the 
men,  but  I  did  not  find  them  bad.    They  responded 


34  WALLS  AND   BARS 

to  kindness  with,  the  simplicity  of  a  child.  In  no 
other  institution  on  the  face  of  the  earth  are  men 
so  sensitive  as  those  who  are  caged  in  prison.  They 
are  ofttimes  terror-stricken;  they  do  not  see  the 
years  ahead  which  may  be  full  of  promise,  they 
see  only  the  walls  and  the  steel  bars  that  separate 
them  from  their  loved  ones.  I  never  saw  those 
bars  nor  the  walls  in  the  nearly  three  years  that 
I  spent  in  Atlanta.  I  was  never  conscious  of 
being  a  prisoner.  If  I  had  had  that  consciousness 
it  would  have  been  tantamount  to  an  admission 
of  guilt,  which  I  never  attached  to  myself. 

It  was  because  I  was  oblivious  of  the  prison  as 
a  thing  that  held  my  body  under  restraint  that  I 
was  able  to  let  my  spirit  soar  and  commune  with 
the  friends  of  freedom  everywhere.  The  in- 
trinsic me  was  never  in  prison.  No  matter  what 
might  have  happened  to  me  I  would  still  have 
been  at  large  in  the  spirit.  Many  years  ago, 
when  I  made  my  choice  of  what  life  had  to  offer, 
I  realized,  saw  plainly,  that  the  route  I  had 
chosen  would  be  shadowed  somewhere  by  the  steel 
bars  of  a  prison  gate.  I  accepted  it,  and  under- 
stood it  perfectly.  I  consider  that  the  years  I 
spent  in  prison  were  necessary  to  complete  my 
particular  education  for  the  part  that  I  am  per- 
mitted to  play  in  human  affairs.  I  would  cer- 
tainly not  exchange  that  experience,  if  I  could, 
to  be  President  of  the  United  States,  although 
some  people  indulge  the  erroneous  belief  that  I 


KELATION   OF   SOCIETY   TO   THE   COITVICT  35 

have  coveted  that  office  in  several  political  cam- 
paigns. 

The  time  will  come  when  the  prison  as  we  now 
know  it  will  disappear,  and  the  hospital  and 
asylums  and  farm  will  take  its  place.  In  that 
day  we  shall  have  succeeded  in  taking  the  jail  out 
of  man  as  well  as  taking  man  out  of  jail. 

Think  of  sending  a  man  out  from  prison  and 
into  the  world  with  a  shoddy  suit  of  clothes  that 
is  recognized  by  every  detective  as  a  prison  gar- 
ment, a  pair  of  paper  shoes,  a  hat  that  will 
shrink  to  half  its  size  when  it  rains,  a  railroad 
ticket,  a  ^ve  dollar  bill  and  seven  cents  car- 
fare !  Bear  in  mind  that  the  railroad  ticket  does 
not  necessarily  take  a  man  back  into  the  bosom 
of  his  family,  but  to  the  place  where  he  was  con- 
victed of  crime.  In  other  words  a  prisoner,  after 
he  has  served  his  sentence,  goes  back  to  the  scene 
of  his  crime.  Society's  resiDonsibility  ends  there 
— so  it  thinks.  But  does  it?  I  say  not.  With  the 
prison  system  what  it  is,  with  my  knowledge  of 
what  it  does  to  men  after  they  get  into  prison, 
and  with  the  contempt  with  which  society  regards 
them  after  they  come  out,  the  wonder  is  not  that 
we  have  periodical  crime  waves  in  times  of 
economic  and  industrial  depression,  but  the  won- 
der is  that  the  social  system  is  not  constantly  in 
convulsions  as  a  result  of  the  desperate  deeds  of 
the  thousands  of  men  and  women  who  pour  in 
and  pour  out  of  our  jails  and  prisons  in  never 
ending  streams  of  human  misery  and  suffering. 


36  WALLS  AND   BAKS 

But  society  lias  managed  to  protect  itself 
against  the  revenge  of  tlie  prisoner  by  dehuman- 
izing him  while  he  is  in  prison.  The  process  is 
slow,  by  degrees,  like  polluted  water  trickling 
from  the  slimy  mouth  of  a  corroded  and  en- 
crusted spout — but  it  is  a  sure  process.  When  a 
man  has  remained  in  prison  over  a  certain  length 
of  time  his  spirit  is  doomed.  He  is  stripped  of 
his  manhood.  He  is  fearful  and  afraid.  Pie  has 
not  been  redeemed.  He  has  been  crucified.  He 
has  not  reformed.  He  has  become  a  roving  ani- 
mal casting  about  for  prey,  and  too  weak  to  seize 
it.  He  is  often  too  weak  to  live  even  by  the  law 
of  the  fang  and  the  claw.  He  is  not  acceptable 
even  in  the  jungle  of  human  life,  for  the  denizens 
of  the  wilderness  demand  strength  and  braverj^ 
as  the  price  and  tax  of  admission. 

Withal,  a  prison  is  a  most  optimistic  institu- 
tion. Every  man  somehow  believes  that  he  can 
**beaf  his  sentence.  He  relies  always  upon  the 
*' technical  poinf  which  he  thinks  has  been  over- 
looked by  his  lawyers.  He  sometimes  imagines 
that  fond  friends  are  busily  working  in  his  be- 
half on  the  outside.  But  in  a  little  while  the 
bubble  breaks,  disillusion  appears,  the  letters 
from  home  become  fewer  and  fewer,  and  the  pris- 
oner in  tears  of  desperation  resigns  himself  to 
his  lot.  Society  has  won  in  him  an  abiding 
enemy.  If,  perchance,  he  is  not  wholly  broken 
by  the  wrecking  process  by  the  time  his  sentence 


RELATIOIT    OF   SOCIETY   TO   THE    CONVICT  37 

is  served,  he  may  seek  to  strike  back.    In  either 
case  society  has  lost.  ^""^ 

I  do  not  know  how  many  prisoners  came  to  me 
with  their  letters  soaked  in  tears.  They  sought 
my  advice.  They  believed  I  could  help  them  over 
the  rough  edges.  I  could  do  nothing  but  listen 
and  offer  them  my  kindness  and  counsel.  They 
would  stop  me  in  the  corridors,  and  on  my  way 
to  the  mess  room  and  say:  ^'Mr.  Debs,  I  want  to 
get  a  minute  with  you  to  tell  you  about  my  case". 
Or,  ''Mr.  Debs,  will  you  read  this  letter  from  my 
wife;  she  says  she  can't  stand  the  gaff  any  long- 
er'\  Or,  "Mr.  Debs,  my  daughter  has  gone  on 
the  town;  what  in  God's  name  can  you  do  about 
it?"  What  could  I  do  about  it?  I  could  only 
pray  with  all  my  heart  for  strength  to  contribute 
toward  the  re-arrangement  of  human  affairs  so 
that  this  needless  suffering  might  be  abolished. 
Two  or  three  concrete  cases  will  suffice  as  ex- 
amples of  the  suffering  that  I  saw. 

Jenkins,  but  that  is  not  his  name,  was  a  rail- 
road man.  Aged,  35.  Married  and  six  children; 
the  oldest  a  daughter,  aged  16  years.  His  wages 
were  too  small  to  support  his  family  in  decency. 
He  broke  into  a  freight  car  in  interstate  com- 
merce. Sentenced  to  five  years  in  Atlanta.  He 
received  a  letter  a  little  while  before  his  term 
expired  telling  him  that  his  daughter  had  been 
seduced  and  was  in  the  **red  light"  district. 
This  man  came  to  me  with  his  tears  and  swore  he 
would  spend  the  rest  of  his  life  tracking  down 


38  WALLS  AND  BAES 

the  man  wlio  ruined  his  daughter,  and,  upon 
finding  him,  he  would  kill  him.  For  days  I  sought 
that  man  out  and  talked  with  him,  and  persuaded 
him  against  his  rash  program.  His  wife  stopped 
writing  to  him.  She  had  found  an  easier,  but  a 
sadder,  way  of  solving  her  economic  problems. 
His  home  was  completely  broken  up  by  the  time 
he  got  out  of  prison. 

Another  prisoner  who  had  been  a  small  trades- 
man, married  and  the  father  of  eight  children, 
also  broke  into  a  freight  car.  It  was  his  first 
offence.  He  got  five  years.  He  showed  me  a 
letter  from  his  wife  saying  there  was  no  food  in 
the  house  and  no  shoes  for  the  children.  The 
landlord  had  threatened  them  with  eviction. 
That  man  was  thirsting  for  revenge.  Society 
had  robbed  his  family  of  the  breadwinner.  The 
mother  had  too  many  children  to  leave  them  and 
work  herself.  If  society  deprives  a  family  of 
their  provider  should  it  not  provide  for  the 
family?  It  would  have  been  more  humane  to 
have  sent  the  whole  family  to  prison. 

Another  young  man,  aged  25,  showed  me  a  let- 
ter from  his  wife.  He  was  married  a  little  while 
before  he  was  convicted.  His  wife  was  pregnant 
and  was  living  with  the  prisoner's  invalid  mother. 
She  had  written  to  him  saying  that  unless  she  got 
relief  from  somewhere  both  herself  and  his 
mother  had  made  up  their  minds  to  commit  sui- 
cide.    They  were  destitute.     They  had  been  re- 


RELATION   OF   SOCIETY   TO   THE   CONVICT  39 

fused  further  credit.  They  could  endure  the  mis- 
ery no  longer. 

Many  men  attempt  suicide  in  prison.  One 
of  the  most  damaging  influences  in  prison  life  is 
the  long  sentence.  It  produces  a  reaction  in  the 
heart  and  mind  of  the  man  who  receives  it  that 
defeats  its  intended  purpose. 

Every  prison  of  which  I  have  any  knowledge 
is  a  breeding  place  for  evil,  an  incubator  for 
crime.  This  is  especially  true  about  the  influence 
of  the  prison  upon  the  youth  and  young  man. 
Of  him  I  shall  write  in  my  next  article. 


CHAPTER  11. 

The  Pkison  as  an  Incubatob  of  Crime. 

The  boy  who  is  arrested  for  the  first  time 
charged  with  an  offence  against  the  law,  con- 
stitutes one  of  the  most  vital  and  portentous 
phases  of  the  prison  problem.  He  may  be  entire- 
ly innocent,  but  this  does  not  save  him  from  go- 
ing to  jail  and  have  a  jail  record  fastened  upon 
him  as  an  unending  stigma. 

If  he  happens  to  be  a  poor  boy,  as  is  most  fre- 
quently the  case,  he  may  be  kept  in  jail,  and 
often  is,  for  an  indefinite  period,  notwithstanding 
the  constitutional  guarantees  of  a  speedy  trial. 
Very  often  this  delay  occurs  through  the  manipu- 
lation of  the  sheriff  who  derives  a  revenue  from 
feeding  prisoners  and  keeping  them  in  the  county 
jail.  Thus,  the  sheriff's  income  is  enlarged.  It 
is  a  notorious  fact  that  prisoners  by  hundreds 
all  over  the  country  are  kept  in  jails,  and  their 
trials  are  delayed  or  postponed  because  the 
sheriff  and  others  derive  a  direct  income  thereby 
under  a  contract  with  the  county  for  feeding 
prisoners. 

The  scandalous  effects  of  this  pernicious  ar- 
rangement are  apparent  in  the  miserable  food 
given  to  prisoners  in  the  average  county  jail; 
helpless  and  untried  boys  and  young  men,  pes- 


PEISON  AS  AN   INCUBATOR  OF   CRIME  41 

sibly  innocent,  are  kept  in  jail  to  their  physical 
and  moral  undoing. 

Just  here  it  may  be  pertinent  to  observe  that 
the  average  county  jail  is  an  absolutely  unfit 
place  in  which  to  lodge  any  human  being,  how- 
ever low  his  social  status  may  be.  As  these  lines 
are  written,  this  charge  is  confirmed  in  the  report 
of  a  state  commission  condemning  the  jails  of 
Indiana  as  unsanitary,  foul  and  disease-breeding, 
wholly  unfit  for  human  occupation.  But  if  every 
state  in  the  union  were  to  appoint  a  commission 
to  investigate  its  jails  and  prisons  the  conclusion 
would  be  the  same  as  that  reached  by  the  Indiana 
body. 

We  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  boy  or  young 
man  who  is  put  in  the  toils  is  usually  poor,  and 
his  friends  are  without  any  considerable  influ- 
ence in  the  community.  It  may  be  that  his  par- 
ents have  had  to  devote  every  minute  of  their 
time  to  the  proposition  of  making  an  uncertain 
living;  the  boy  and  his  brothers  and  sisters,  if 
he  has  any,  are  neglected ;  they  do  not  receive  the 
proper  attention  in  the  home  that  is  the  right  of 
every  growing  child.  Their  education  is  often 
neglected  for  the  sufficient  reason  that  their  la- 
bor power,  such  as  it  is,  is  required  to  help  main- 
tain what  passes  for  a  home,  but  which  is  often 
a  shack,  a  lair,  a  place  in  which  mother  and 
father  and  their  brood  come  to  lay  their  tired  and 
weary  bodies  after  the  day's  work  is  done.  Such 
an  atmosphere  is  not  conducive  to  the  sweeter 


42  WALLS   AND   BAKS 

amenities  of  life,  but  begets  a  sad,  sordid  and 
drab  existence,  out  of  which  all  hope,  some  day, 
to  climb. 

If  the  boy  be  a  spirited  lad  he  will  rebel 
against  the  conditions  that  obtain  at  home,  the 
significance  of  which  he  does  not  in  the  least  per- 
ceive. If,  in  this  trying  period  of  his  young  man-, 
hood,  he  had  at  least  someone  who  would  extend 
the  helping  hand,  speak  the  kindly  word,  and  give 
the  encouraging  embrace,  the  boy  might  respond 
to  these  beneficent  influences  and  direct  his  steps 
into  avenues  of  useful  citizenship.  But  up  to 
this  moment  society  has  not  been  collectively  in- 
terested in  alleviating  the  conditions  that  make 
for  the  so-called  criminal.  Society  does  appear 
to  be  highly  indignant  when  the  boy  or  young  man 
rebels  and  strikes  back  in  the  only  way  that  he 
knows  how  to  strike — in  the  way  that  he  has  been 
taught  by  the  social  conditions  in  which  he  lives. 
The  policeman,  the  sheriff  and  the  judge  do  pos- 
sess intelligence  enough  to  see  the  fact,  but  what 
they  do  not  see  is  the  impulse  in  the  boy  to  live, 
which  is  before  the  fact,  and  the  consequence  of 
their  own  blindness  which  comes  in  due  time  after 
the  fact. 

I  do  not  know  if  I  should  go  to  the  length  of 
saying  with  the  poet  that  **no  hell  is  so  black  as 
the  court  that  sentences  man  to  it",  but  I  have  no 
hesitancy  in  declaring  that  no  social  system  is  so 
stupid  as  the  one  that  sows  the  seeds  of  vice  and 
crime  and  later  becomes  purple  with  indignation 


PEISON  AS  AN  INCUBATOR  OF  CEIMB  43 

and  horror  when  the  crop  is  ripe  for  picking. 

As  ye  sow,  so  shall  ye  reap  I 

It  may  be  unfortunate  and  a  bit  disconcerting 
that  the  inexorable  law  of  compensation  must 
forever  operate  in  the  affairs  of  society,  for  if  it 
could  be  repealed,  or  even  suspended  for  a  time, 
mankind  might  be  spared  the  unpleasantness  of 
gazing  upon  some  of  the  human  manifestations 
that  are  wrought,  willy-nilly,  against  the  inten- 
tions of  most  of  us,  who  have,  I  take  it,  a  more  or 
less  generous  regard  for  our  fellow  man. 

Holding  men  in  jail  week  after  week,  monthi 
after  month,  as  is  commonly  the  case,  is  not  only 
one  of  the  inexcusable  vices  of  the  present  system 
of  administering  the  law,  but  is  directly  respon- 
sible for  debauching  the  manhood  of  the  victims 
especially  the  young  and  those  of  maturer  age 
who  have  committed  their  first  offence. 

If,  finally,  upon  trial,  persons  so  held  are  found 
to  be  innocent  of  the  charges  against  them,  or  if 
the  cases  are  dismissed  for  want  of  evidence  upon 
which  to  convict  them,  or  other  reasons,  an  irre- 
parable injury  has  been  done  them  by  society, 
not  only  in  point  of  moral  contamination,  but  in 
branding  them  as  jail  birds,  the  record  of  which 
is  ineffaceable  and  might  as  well  be  stamped 
upon  their  foreheads.  That  record  will  follow 
them  through  every  avenue  and  lane  of  life  and 
will  serve  to  convict  them  in  advance  of  any 
charge  that  any  malevolent  person  might  subse- 
quently bring  against  them. 


44  WALLS  AND   BAKS 

The  most  vicious  phase  of  all  in  this  connection 
is  the  fact  that  if  the  victim  is  finally  convicted 
after  lying  and  festering  in  jail  for  three  months, 
six  months,  or  even  a  year  or  more,  the  time  thus 
served  is  not  allowed  to  count  in  his  prison  sen- 
tence, which  has  to  be  served  in  full  in  addition 
to  the  time  spent  in  the  county  jail. 

In  the  light  of  these  flagrant  abuses  of  our 
helpless  fellow  beings,  what  else  can  the  prison 
be  considered  than  a  breeder  of  vice,  immorality 
and  disease,  and  condemned  as  an  incubator  for 
crime  ? 

Think  of  a  boy  13,  or  14  years  of  age,  perhaps 
wrongly  accused,  in  such  a  place ;  among  the  con- 
firmed and  hardened  criminals  of  all  types,  learn- 
ing their  language,  and  absorbing  their  moral 
perversions,  and  witnessing  their  spiritual  decay ! 

How  does  such  a  boy  feel,  and  what  must  be  his 
reaction  to  such  a  rude  shock  to  his  young  life! 
I  am  sure  I  know,  for  I  have  been  with  him.  I 
have  seen  his  fear-stricken  countenance,  felt  his 
trembling  hand  in  mine,  and  heard  his  troubled 
heart-beat. 

Society,  and  those  who  function  for  it  in  the 
name  of  the  law  should  pause  long  and  consider 
well  before  putting  the  boy  in  jail  for  the  first 
time, — especially  the  boy  who  has  not  the  few 
dollars  that  are  sometimes  necessary  to  keep  him 
out  of  jail.  That  boy  may,  by  such  initiation  into 
the  ways  of  law  and  justice,  be  started  upon  a 


PEISON  AS  AN   INCUBATOE   OF   CBIME  45 

career  of  reprisal  for  Trhicli  society  may  pay 
dearly,  perhaps  with  life  itself  in  the  end. 

Every  community  should  have  at  least  as  much 
interest  in  the  condition  and  management  of  its 
jail  as  it  pretends  to  have  in  its  schoolhouse,  and 
as  it  certainly  has  in  its  center  of  amusement  and 
entertainment. 

The  jail,  after  all,  indifferent  or  scornful  as 
we  may  be  to  the  fact,  is  not  only  an  integral  part 
of  the  social  fabric,  but  is  a  darkened  room  sepa- 
rated only  by  a  shallow  door  from  the  rest  of  the 
apartments  in  the  community  house.  If  pesti- 
lence prevails  there,  if  moral  miasma  issues  forth 
from  that  cesspool  the  community  is  to  just  that 
extent  contaminated  and  imperilled. 

The  abuses  of  the  prison  system,  and  the 
crimes  against  criminals  in  the  perverted  name  of 
law  and  order,  are  as  constantly  visited  upon  the 
community  responsible  for  them  as  a  devastating 
plague  follows  in  the  wake  of  disease  and  death- 
dealing  germs. 

Every  community  should  look  into  its  jail,  find 
out  who  is  there  and  why,  how  the  prisoners  are 
fed,  and  if  they  are  held  for  purposes  of  graft 
that  finds  its  way  into  the  pockets  of  the  petty 
politicians,  the  chief  of  whom,  in  this  case  is  the 
sheriff  of  the  county.  The  community  should  in- 
sist that  the  men  held  in  its  jail  be  either  tried 
or  released,  for  every  hour  that  a  man  is  held  in 
jail  he  is  a  liability,  not  an  asset,  to  the  commun- 
ity which  pays  the  tax  that  is  levied  against  it  to 


46  WALLS  AND   BABS 

feed  and  shelter  its  erring  members.  From  the 
purely  selfish,  monetary  standpoint,  if  not  from 
the  broader  social  questions  raised,  society  at 
large,  and  each  component  part  of  society,  should 
be  concerned  in  this  problem. 

From  the  standpoint  of  the  erring  boy,  the 
young  man,  and  the  first  offender  the  prison 
problem  is  not  the  last  rung  of  the  social  ladder 
that  he  must  mount,  but  the  first  one.  Shall  he 
be  branded  with  the  flaming  torch  that  writes  in 
scarlet  letters  the  word  ^^Convicf  across  his 
brow,  and  condemned  to  a  fugitive  existence  for 
the  remainder  of  his  days  because  he  chanced  to 
be  unfortunate  either  through  the  manner  of 
birth,  or  through  circumstances  that  he  could  not 
control,  or  because  of  direful  conditions  with 
which  he  could  not  cope  with  his  poor  physicial 
or  material  equipment?  For  good  or  for  bad,  is 
he  not  an  inevitable  product  of  the  social  system? 
And  should  he  be  doomed  at  the  first  crossroad 
in  his  young  life  because  society  had  failed  to 
prepare  for  him  a  kindlier  reception  at  his  birth, 
and  ignored  him  thereafter,  except  as  it  might 
exploit  whatever  brawn  or  cunning  that  he  pos- 
sessed. 

Youthful  and  first  offenders  are  also  the  legiti- 
mate prey  of  unscrupulous  lawyers,  the  hangers- 
on  of  police  courts,  who  seek  to  extract  every  dol- 
lar the  accused  can  beg  or  borrow,  and  who  all 
the  while  know  that  the  track  is  clear  between  his 
so-called  client  and  the  penitentiary.    Time  with- 


PEISON  AS  AN   INCUBATOB  OF   CRIME  47 

out  number  this  type  of  lawyer  keeps  the  prisoner 
in  a  county  jail  under  the  pretext  given  to  the 
court  that  he  is  not  ready  for  trial,  that  there  is 
more  evidence  to  be  obtained  for  his  client,  when 
as  a  matter  of  fact  the  mercenary  lawyer  in  his 
craven  heart  knows  he  is  seeking,  not  for  evi- 
dence with  which  to  liberate  the  defenceless  vic- 
tim but  to  extract  the  last  possible  penny  from 
the  man  in  jail  before  he  is  railroaded  beyond  his 
reach  to  the  penitentiary.  I  have  known  of  help- 
less prisoners  to  be  pursued  by  avaricious  lawj^ers 
after  they  had  begun  to  serve  their  sentences,  and 
the  simple-hearted  victims  would  often  write  to 
their  destitute  families  asking  them  to  send  their 
last  dollars  to  attorneys  in  exchange  for  a  gilded 
lie  which  the  simple  prisoners  made  themselves 
believe  was  a  fresh  promise  of  liberty. 

Let  us  now  deal  with  the  first  offender  who, 
after  interminable  delays,  is  convicted  and  his 
money  gone.  He  has  been  pilloried,  put  on  exhi- 
bition in  the  courtroom  before  the  gaze  of  the 
curious,  his  plight  ridiculed  in  the  press.  He 
feels  himself  an  outcast,  friendless,  and  indeed 
he  is.  The  judge  pronounces  the  victim's  doom 
from  an  elevated  throne  and  passes  on  to  the 
next  case.  Persons  accused  of  crime  lose  their 
identity  as  human  beings  and  become  ^^ cases'', 
just  as  workingmen  are  only  ** hands"  to  some 
employers.  The  sentence  of  the  law  is  executed 
with  all  the  solemnity  and  ceremony  of  a  funeral, 
and  the   culprit,   with  head  bowed  either   from 


48  WALLS   AND   BARS 

grief  or  rage,  is  led  from  the  courtroom  between 
two  feelingless  factotums  to  begin  his  punish- 
men — justice  is  served,  society  is  avenged,  and  all 
is  well  once  more.    But  is  it?    Not  so  fast! 

The  victim  has  already  suffered  every  torment 
and  feels  the  keenest  sense  of  shame  and  humilia- 
tion, but  this  does  not  count  in  the  matter  of 
atonement.  He  goes  back  to  jail  until  the  sheriff 
can  arrange  to  take  him  to  the  *^pen'\ 

The  fateful  day  arrives!  He  is  manacled, 
sometimes  hand  and  foot,  and  put  on  a  train 
where  everyone  learns  he  is  a  convict  and  se- 
cretly mocks  him. 

He  is  delivered,  signed  for,  sheds  his  name  and 
receives  a  number.  He  is  no  longer  a  man  but  a 
thing.  He  has  ceased  to  be  a  human  being.  He 
is  stripped  naked  under  the  clubs  of  guards  who 
hurl  insults  and  epithets  at  him  about  his  body. 
He  is  put  into  a  cheap  prison  garb  that  in  itself 
proclaims  the  status  to  which  he  has  been  re- 
duced. He  is  examined  in  a  rude  and  perfunctory 
way  by  the  physician's  assistant  who  himself 
may  be  a  convict.  He  is  made  to  sign  a  document 
stating  where  his  body  is  to  be  shipped  in  case  of 
death.  He  is  handled  as  if  he  were  a  bag  of  malt 
as  he  goes  through  the  Bertillon  system.  Note 
is  taken  and  a  record  made  of  every  mark  upon 
his  body.  All  his  personal  effects  are  taken  from 
him.  These  are  supposed  to  be  shipped  back  to 
his  home,  if  he  has  one,  and  if  he  has  money  to 
pay  the  charges.    The  chances  are,  however,  his 


PBISON  AS  AN   INCUBATOR  OF  CRIME  49 

effects  will  be  stolen  before  they  leave  the  prison, 
if  they  have  any  value. 

In  this  particular  I  have  had  some  personal 
experience,  for  when  I  went  to  Atlanta  Prison 
only  a  part  of  my  effects  that  should  have  been 
sent  to  my  home  arrived  there.  Whereas  I  indi^ 
cated  that  the  traveling  bag  that  I  carried  there 
with  me  should  be  left  among  my  personal  posses- 
sions in  the  prison,  I  was  given  a  cardboard  to- 
mato case  when  I  left  as  travelling  equipment. 
Among  other  things,  I  especially  recall  that  cuff 
and  shirt  buttons,  small  trinkets  that  were  given 
to  me  as  mementoes  by  friends,  and  some  shirts 
and  other  articles  that  were  sent  to  me,  were 
stolen  after  I  arrived  in  Atlanta.  I  am  making 
no  charges,  but  stating  a  fact.  What  happened 
in  my  case  happens  in  all  cases  in  greater  or 
smaller  degree. 

But  as  to  the  boy !  The  letter  a  week  he  is  per- 
mitted to  write  is  censored,  and  those  he  receives 
are  opened  and  read.  Little  tokens  of  sentiment 
are  extracted  and  thrown  away.  Even  a  lock  of 
his  mother's  hair  may  not  reach  him. 

If  he  should  deign  to  go  to  the  chapel  to  pray 
and  take  communion  with  his  soul  a  guard  sits 
over  him  with  a  club  to  sweeten  his  spirit  and 
temper  his  piety. 

The  miserable  food  he  receives  starves,  rather 
than  feeds  his  body.  The  process  in  the  mess 
room  is  more  like  slopping  hogs  than  feeding 
humans,   with   the   difference   that   hogs    fatten 


50  WALLS   AND    BAKS 

while  humans  starve.  Here  is  where  he  makes 
his  first  acquaintance  with  stale  old  beef  hearts 
and  livers,  and  the  classic  brand  of  hash  known 
in  prison  parlance  as  ^*  concrete  balls '\  The 
gravy  is  loud  enough  to  talk  and  the  oleo  strong 
enough  to  walk.  Bugs  and  worms  figure  pro- 
verbially in  the  prison  menu. 

The  youth  is  beginning  to  realize  the  deadening 
monotony  of  prison  life.  His  spirit  is  crushed. 
His  sensibilities  have  become  numb.  His  eyes  do 
not  see  beyond  the  height  of  the  gray  prison 
walls  upon  which  armed  guards  idle  away  the 
hours  by  watching  eagerly  for  an  opportunity  to 
*  Ving^'  a  fleeing  jailbird. 

He  is  put  to  work  under  the  domination  of  the 
man  with  the  club.  He  is  watched  and  reported 
by  the  stool-pigeon  who  is  himself  a  convict  who 
has  wormed  into  the  graces  of  the  officials  and 
guards  by  spying  upon  his  fellow  prisoners. 
Every  prison  is  a  whispering  gallery.  Whatever 
is  said  is  sure  to  reach  the  office  promptly.  No 
criticism  is  tolerated,  and  no  complaint  may  get 
beyond  the  walls. 

A  prisoner  cannot  know  the  time  of  day,  for 
there  are  no  clocks  in  prison,  the  purpose  being 
to  cut  the  convict  off  as  completely  as  possible 
from  the  outside  world  in  which  he  had  his  being. 
The  youth  is  thrown  among  all  sorts  and  condi- 
tions of  old  and  hardened  convicts,  and  he  soon 
acquires  a  new  vocabulary  peculiar  to  prison  life. 
The  foulest  language  flowers  in  the  poisoned  at- 


PKISON  AS  AN  INCUBATOR  OF  CEIME  51 

mosphere  of  the  prison  pen.  There  he  is 
schooled  in  the  science  of  burglary  taught  by  old 
professors  in  the  art,  and  he  learns  at  first  hand 
from  professional  adepts  all  about  every  form  of 
vice  and  crime  known  to  man. 

Here,  also,  where  his  sex  instincts  are  sup- 
pressed, he  is  schooled  in  nameless  forms  of  per- 
version of  body,  mind  and  soul  that  cause  human 
beings  to  sink  to  abysmal  depths  of  depravity 
which  the  lower  animals  do  not  know.  These  per- 
versions wreck  the  lives  of  countless  thousands 
and  send  their  wretched  victims  to  premature  and 
dishonored  graves. 

This  is  but  one  of  the  horrors  of  our  modem 
civilization  and  the  prison  is  its  native  breeding 
ground. 


CHAPTER  in. 

I  Become  U.  S.  Convict  No.  9653. 

Warden  Joseph  Z.  Terrell,  of  the  West  Vir- 
ginia State  Penitentiary  at  Moundsville,  a  former 
railroad  station  agent,  had  but  recently  been  put 
in  charge  of  the  prison  when  I  began  to  serve 
my  ten-year  sentence  there  on  April  13,  1919.  He 
treated  me  with  perfect  fairness,  and  I  got  along 
quite  well  and  without  the  slightest  trouble  dur- 
ing the  time  I  was  in  prison  there. 

On  June  13,  just  two  months  after  my  sentence 
commenced,  Mr.  Terrell  reluctantly  informed  me 
that  I  had  been  ordered  transferred  to  Atlanta. 
The  order  came  just  in  time  to  enable  me  to  pack 
my  belongings  and  get  ready  for  the  train  that 
was  to  carry  me  to  my  southern  destination. 

Strict  secrecy  was  enjoined  by  the  government 
as  to  my  removal,  and  especially  as  to  the  train 
upon  which  I  was  to  take  my  departure.  I  have 
since  been  informed  that  before  I  left  Mounds- 
ville the  government  officials  commanded  the  two 
telegraph  offices  in  Wheeling  to  accept  no  mes- 
sages from  reporters  or  other  persons  about  my 
leaving  West  Virginia  prison  until  the  next  morn- 
ing. In  spite  of  this  attempt  to  effect  profound 
secrecy  as  to  my  movements,  a  leak  occurred 
somehow,  for  I  was  interviewed  by  a  reporter 


I  BECAME   U.   S.    CONVICT   NO.    9653  53 

the  same  day  at  Cincinnati  en  route  to  the  south. 

It  appears  that  I  was  too  near  the  coal  fields  in 
West  Virginia,  in  which  1  had  previously  spent 
considerable  time  organizing  the  miners  who  were 
greatly  agitated  over  my  imprisonment.  At  one 
mass  meeting  at  Charleston,  which  was  attended 
by  several  thousand  miners  and  other  citizens, 
resolutions  were  passed  threatening  a  march  on 
Moundsville  if  I  was  not  released. 

Warden  Terrell  gave  me  a  friendly  introduc- 
tion to  U.  S.  Marshal  Smith,  who  with  his  three 
deputies,  took  me  in  charge  on  arrival  at  Wheel- 
ing, whither  the  warden  and  his  son  had  taken  me 
in  their  automobile.  The  marshal  and  his  depu- 
ties treated  me  with  all  consideration  over  the  en- 
tire journey.  The  marshal  bore  a  letter  from 
Warden  Terrell  to  Warden  Fred.  G.  Zerbst  at 
Atlanta,  commending  me  on  the  basis  of  my 
prison  record. 

Shortly  after  the  noon  hour  on  the  following 
day,  June  14,  we  arrived  in  Atlanta.  The  marshal 
called  for  a  taxicab. 

** Where  do  you  want  to  go?''  asked  the  chauf- 
feur. 

*^Take  us  to  your  best  penitentiary, ' '  replied 
the  marshal.  Less  than  half  an  hour  later  we 
were  landed  at  the  gates  of  my  new  home,  and 
I  was  delivered,  signed  for,  and  the  marshal  and 
his  deputies  took  their  departure,  wishing  me  a 
pleasant  stay. 

In  the  massive  main  corridor  in  which  I  found 


54  WALLS  AND  BAltS 

myself  I  had  my  first  view  and  received  my  first 
impression  of  the  sinister  institution,  known  as 
the  U.  S.  Penitentiary  at  Atlanta.  It  seemed  to 
me  like  a  vast  sepulchre  in  which  the  living  dead 
had  been  sequestered  by  society.  Through  the 
steel  gate  at  the  end  of  the  corridor  I  could  see 
human  forms  hurrying  back  and  forth  under  the 
watchful  eyes  of  guards  with  clubs,  and  they  ap- 
peared to  me  with  all  the  uncanniness  of  spectral 
shapes  in  the  infernal  regions.  I  was  perfectly 
calm  and  self-possessed  for  I  had  made  up  my 
mind  from  the  beginning  that  whatever  my  prison 
experience  might  be  I  should  face  it  without  fear 
or  regret. 

Such  serenity  is  always  vouchsafed  by  the 
psychology  of  the  man  who  follows  the  dictates  of 
his  own  conscience  and  is  true  to  his  own  soul. 
I  could  not  help  feeling  aware  of  the  curiosity 
which  my  presence  aroused  among  the  convicts 
and  some  of  the  officials.  A  few  of  the  latter,  I 
observed,  smothered  whatever  interest,  hostile  or 
kindly,  they  may  have  felt  over  my  presence  by 
a  Sphinx-like  sullenness  which  I  readily  compre- 
hended. 

There  seems  to  be  a  studied  mental  attitude 
on  the  part  of  most  prison  officials  I  have  met, 
particularly  the  guards,  that  has  for  its  purpose 
to  impress  upon  the  prisoner  that  the  official  is 
wholly  disinterested  in  the  human  equation,  in  the 
natural  impulses  that  make  us  what  we  are.  He 
strives  to  appear  as  unhuman   as   possible^^  and 


I  BECAME   U.    S.    CONVICT   NO.    9653  55 

this  psychological  sub-normality  on  his  part 
comes  to  fruitage  in  what  is  often  his  inhuman 
conduct  toward  the  prisoner.  So  far  as  the  pris- 
oners were  concerned,  I  felt  their  kindly  interest 
expressed  in  their  furtive  glances  toward  me,  and 
their  good  will  was  apparent  on  every  hand. 

The  guard  in  charge  conducted  me  to  a  shower 
bath  where  I  divested  myself  of  my  clothing. 
Every  article,  including  a  quill  toothpick,  was 
taken  from  me  and  my  garments  were  minutely 
searched.  The  guard,  I  wish  to  admit,  treated 
me  quite  decently,  although  I  confess  that  but 
for  my  having  steeled  myself  against  whatever 
might  be  in  the  program  I  should  have  felt  out- 
raged by  the  harsh  and  unfeeling  method  with 
which  the  thing  was  done. 

The  introduction  a  prisoner  receives  and  the 
way  be  is  put  through  the  initial  stages  of  his 
sentence  are  not  calculated  to  impress  him  with 
the  fact  that  a  prison  is  a  human  institution.  The 
rigorous  treatment  he  receives  will  not  convince 
him  that  he  had  been  placed  there  to  redeem  him 
from  his  transgressions  and  reclaim  him  as  a 
human  being.  On  the  contrary,  the  process  em- 
bitters him  against  all  who  had  any  part  in  his 
plight,  estranges  him  from  whatever  kindly  in- 
fluences that  may  still  be  operating  in  his  behalf, 
and  alienates  him  from  society  which,  in  the  first 
and  final  analysis,  is  responsible  for  him,  and, 
perhaps  in  the  end  must  answer  to  him. 

After  the  bath  I  was  clothed  in  cheap  faded 


56  WALLS   AND   BARS 

blue  denim  which  had  been  discarded  by  some 
prisoner  who  had  gone  out  into  the  world.  In 
company  with  several  others  who,  also,  had  just 
arrived,  I  was  escorted  to  the  kitchen  where  our 
first  meal  was  served,  the  dinner  hour  in  the  gen- 
eral mess  having  passed.  Save  for  the  bread,  I 
could  not  say  what  the  meal  consisted  of  as  I 
could  not  make  it  out,  nor  did  I  attempt  any  in- 
ternal analysis  of  the  menu.  The  food  and  the 
manner  in  which  it  was  served  created  nausea 
rather  than  an  appetite.  While  we  sat  at  the 
table  a  bulky  guard  stood  over  us  swinging  his 
club  and  delivering  himself  in  a  gruff  voice  of 
certain  instructions  as  to  table  conduct  at  the 
prison.  I  suspected  that  a  passage  or  two  in  his 
culinary  flight  was  made  for  my  benefit,  and  I 
applauded  in  silence. 

A  little  later  the  routine  led  to  the  hospital, 
where  I  was  subjected  to  a  physical  examination ; 
sundry  blanks  and  reports,  descriptive  of  me  and 
my  physical  condition,  were  filled  out  for  the 
prison  archives. 

The  ** mugging  gallery*'  was  next  visited  and 
there  two  pictures  were  taken  by  a  convict  pho- 
tographer— one  profile  and  one  full-face — for  the 
rogue's  gallery.  Before  the  camera  was  snapped 
a  narrow  plate  showing  my  registration  number 
was  put  around  my  neck.  I  was  next  assigned  to 
a  temporary  cell  with  one  other  convict  who  had 
arrived  on  the  same  train  with  me.  He  was  a 
young  man  who  had  but  recently  married.    He 


I   BECAME    U.    S.    CONVICT    NO.    9653  57 

would  serve  a  year  for  taking  some  goods  out  of 
a  freight  car  to  piece  out  Ms  wages  which  were 
too  small  to  provide  for  his  family.  I  had  been 
shocked  when  I  first  saw  this  young  man  on  the 
train,  his  feet  and  hands  shackled  and  an  expres- 
sion of  mingled  terror  and  humiliation  ui3on  his 
countenance.  The  sad  picture  of  that  wretched 
and  dejected  youth  will  forever  remain  in  my 
memory.  He  was  assigned  to  a  sewing  machine 
and  he  seemed  happy  when  he  could  renew  the 
missing  buttons  on  my  prison  suit. 

I  was  taken  in  turn  to  the  office  of  the  Protes- 
tant and  Catholic  chaplains  who  questioned  me 
about  my  spiritual  beliefs  and  denominational 
affiliation.  I  gladly  affirmed  the  first  in  a  way 
that  I  fear  was  not  clearly  comprehended  by 
these  estimable  gentlemen  of  the  cloth,  whose  in- 
tentions, I  am  sure,  were  the  best;  as  regards  the 
second  inquiry,  I  had  to  disappoint  both  of  my 
interrogators  for  in  my  mind  true  and  sincere 
spirituality  carries  with  it  no  theological  or  de- 
nominational partisanship. 

On  this  point  I  should  like  to  digress  a  mo- 
ment to  say  that  when  I  went  to  Atlanta  prison 
attendance  at  the  chapel  services  was  compulsory. 
Guards  with  clubs  in  their  hands  and  scowls  on 
their  faces  were  stationed  inside  of  this  sanctu- 
ary where  pious  appeals  were  made  to  the  pris- 
oners to  emulate  Jesus  and  follow  His  teachings. 
The  setting  and  the  appeal  were  most  incongru- 
ous to  say  the  least,  and  my  refusal  to  attend  such 


58  WALLS   AND   BABS 

a  ghastly  travesty  upon  religious  worship  was 
later  followed  by  an  order  that  made  chapel  at- 
tendance optional  with  the  prisoners.  But  the 
guards  with  clubs  were  not  displaced  and  for  that 
reason,  if  for  no  other,  I  did  not  attend. 

The  day  following  the  inquisition  in  the  office 
of  the  chaplains  a  number  of  us  new  arrivals — a 
dozen  in  all — ^black  and  white,  stood  around  the 
desk  of  the  deputy  warden.  It  was  a  motley  crew 
rather  than  a  picturesque  audience.  I  was  in  the 
midst  of  what  are  called  the  lowest  types  of  crim- 
inals flanked  by  Negro  murderers,  and  yet,  I 
never  felt  myself  more  perfectly  at  one  with  my 
fellow  beings.  We  were  all  on  a  dead  level  there 
and  I  felt  my  heart  beat  in  unison  with  the  heart- 
beats of  those  brothers  of  mine  whose  hunted 
looks  and  wretched  appearance  were  proof 
enough  to  me  that  they  had  been  denied  a  decent 
chance  in  the  outer  world ;  I  felt  that  I,  who  had 
fared  so  infinitely  better,  was  bound  to  love  and 
serve  them  as  best  I  could  within  the  prison  walls 
in  which  we  were  alike  victims. 

One  of  the  Negroes  in  that  little  coterie  said  to 
another  of  his  race  a  few  days  later  in  referring 
to  me: 

**I  would  stay  here  for  life  to  see  that  man  go 
out."  He  meant  it.  There  was  to  me  a  whole 
beautiful  Christly  sermon  in  those  few  words 
for  that  poor  unlettered  black  brother. 

Seated  at  his  desk  the  deputy  warden  delivered 
an   odd   admixture   of  instructions,   orders   and 


I  BECAME    U.   S.    CONVICT   NO.   9653  59 

warnings.  It  was  his  official  duty  to  relieve  him- 
self of  the  same  homily  on  arrival  of  all  incoming 
prisoners.  We  were  given  to  understand  that 
^*the  goblins  would  get  us  if  we  didn't  watch 
out." 

The  deputy,  who  was  a  rigid  orthodox  Calvin- 
ist,  had  previously  officiated  as  foreman  of  a 
chain  gang  in  Fulton  County,  Georgia.  In  the 
lecture  which  he  delivered  to  us  he  bore  especially 
on  the  penalty  that  would  be  imposed  for  the  use 
of  foul  language.  He  repeated  some  of  the 
frightful  words  in  common  use  in  the  vocabulary 
of  convicts,  and  he  threatened  dire  punishment  to 
any  who  might  repeat  them.  It  is  a  fact,  how- 
ever, notwithstanding  his  rigorous  discipline  and 
his  solemn  threats  and  warnings,  that  foul  lan- 
guage continued  to  flow.  Its  usage  is  fostered, 
not  repressed,  by  club  rule  and  black-hole  tor- 
ture. 

I  would  be  laying  no  flattering  unction  upon 
myself  if  I  should  say  that  merely  by  speaking 
kindly  with  my  fellow  prisoners,  treating  them 
as  equals,  making  them  feel  as  I  felt  that  their 
interest  was  mine  and  mine  was  theirs,  the  use 
of  foul  language  declined  to  such  a  happy  degree 
in  the  prison  that  it  was  a  matter  of  comment 
among  the  prisoners  and  officials.  I  remember 
especially  one  convict  who  had  been  in  Atlanta 
many  years  and  was  destined  to  spend  his  re- 
maining ones  within  those  gray  walls.  This  man 
had  been  cruelly  treated  all  his  life  by  guards. 


60  WALLS  AND   BARS 

He  had  known  no  law  that  was  not  enforced  with 
the  club.  He  had  been  brutalized,  and  whatever 
human  impulses  to  do  good  he  might  have  felt 
were  crushed  by  those  who  held  him  captive. 

This  man  used  foul  language  the  same  as  the 
rest.  I  understood  the  reason  for  it,  and  my 
sympathy  went  out  to  him.  I  put  my  arm  across 
his  shoulder  and  told  him  that  if  he  must  use  that 
kind  of  language  to  please  not  employ  it  in  my 
presence,  not  because  it  hurt  me,  I  said,  but  be- 
cause it  hurt  him. 

*^I  hate  to  think  of  you,'*  I  said  to  him,  ** using 
that  fine  body  of  yours  as  a  sewer  from  which 
to  emit  such  filthy  words. '^  He  perceived  me, 
and  soon  this  man's  vocabulary  was  free  from 
foulness  except  when  he  saw  a  stool-pigeon  whom 
he  loathed  and  abominated. 

The  deputy  warden,  upon  hearing  that  this 
man  had  almost  cleansed  his  vocabulary,  sent  for 
him  one  day  and  asked  him  how  he  had  succeed- 
ed in  doing  it 

^* Mister  Debs  jest  asked  me  to,'*  he  replied 
simply.  **He  is  the  only  Christ  I  know  anything 
about,  'cause  I  see  how  he  lives  and  feels  about 
these  things.  There  is  as  much  difference  be- 
tween Mister  Debs  and  the  rest  of  the  people  in 
this  place  as  there  is  between  mud  and  ice- 
cream." I  know  that  my  black  brother  greatly 
exaggerated  my  little  part  in  his  partial  refor- 
mation. The  good  was  in  him,  and  I  had  merely 
brought  it  to  his  attention. 


I   BECAME    U.   S.    CONVICT   NO.    9653  61 

On  leaving  the  deputy  warden's  office  my  fel- 
low prisoners  and  I  were  returned  to  onr  tem- 
porary cells,  and  the  following  day  we  were  as- 
signed to  onr  respective  duties.  I  was  given  a 
clerical  position  in  the  clothiag  room  where  the 
outfiitting  of  the  prisoners  takes  place,  and 
where,  also,  prison  supplies  are  stored  and  fur- 
nished to  the  several  departments. 

My  duties  were  very  simple  and  entirely  agree- 
able as  prison  service.  The  official  in  charge 
treated  me  well  and  all  the  prisoners  employed 
in  that  department  vied  with  each  other  in  help- 
ing me  to  get  along.  After  the  day's  work  we 
were  allowed  half  an  hour  for  exercise  in  the 
stockade  before  supper,  for  which  twenty  min- 
utes was  allowed.  I  was  not  eager  about  meal- 
time. I  was  in  Atlanta  prison  nearly  two  weeks  / 
and  pretty  well  starved  before  nature  forced  me 
to  become  receptive  to  the  food  and  the  manner  1 
in  which  it  was  served. 

After  a  few  days  in  a  temporary  cell  I  was 
assigned  to  my  regular  cage  which  was  occupied 
by  five  other  men,  one  of  whom  was  a  German, 
one  a  Jew,  one  an  Irishman  and  two  Americans. 
Being  the  latest  arrival  I  should  have  occupied 
an  upper  bunk,  but  the  German,  who  had  the 
lower,  insisted  on  taking  the  upper  and  giving 
me  his  own  sleeping  slab.  He  also  insisted  on 
making  my  bed,  as  I  had  some  difficulty  in  making 
it  up  so  it  would  pass  inspection.  He  continued 
this  kindness  all  the  time  I  occupied  that  cell. 


62  WALLS  AND   BABS 

He  likewise  did  my  laundering  of  the  smaller 
items  of  apparel  that  had  to  be  done  in  our  cells. 

This  German  was  sentenced  for  five  years  be- 
cause some  liquor  had  been  found  in  the  lodging 
house  of  which  he  was  tlie  proprietor  and  at 
which  soldiers  were  quartered  during  the  war. 
This  is  one  of  the  many  savage  sentences  that 
was  brought  to  my  personal  attention,  and  which 
excited  my  indignation  and  revolt.  I  never  knew 
a  finer  man,  and  I  could  not  have  been  treated 
more  kindly  and  considerately  had  these  five  con- 
victs been  my  own  brothers.  Upon  the  German's 
release  from  prison  be  sent  me  a  beautiful  pipe, 
and  he  has  been  writing  to  me  ever  since. 

Incidents  of  human  kindness  in  this  prison  also 
could  be  multiplied  by  the  hundreds.  I  would 
not  give  the  impression  that  I  was  the  sole  bene- 
ficiary of  these  loving  acts,  for  I  have  seen  pris- 
oners manifest  the  same  regard  toward  each 
other,  in  spite  of  the  harsh  rules  and  regulations 
that  seem  to  be  calculated  to  crush  magnanimity; 
wherever  it  lifts  its  benevolent  hand. 

Just  beyond  the  prison  cells  lies  the  campus 
along  the  walls  of  which  guards  in  uniform  pass 
back  and  forth  swinging  their  Winchester  rifles 
as  if  they  were  going  out  to  shoot  squirrels.  The 
sight  shocked  me  through  and  through  with  its 
horrid  significance  as  a  symbol  of  man's  inhu- 
manity under  the  prison  regime.  For  paltry  pay 
these  guards  contract  to  send  a  bullet  through 
the  heart  of  some  hapless  wretch  who  might  have 


I   BECAME   U.   S.    CONVICT   NO.    9653  63 

dreamed  of  liberty,  and  attempted  to  escape  the 
tortures  of  a  prison  hell. 

I  had  been  in  prison  about  a  week  when  I  first 
met  Warden  Zerbst,  who  sent  for  me  and  whom 
I  met  in  his  private  office.  He  received  me  kindly 
and  referred  to  the  letter  regarding  me  which 
he  received  from  Warden  Terrell  at  Monndsville. 
We  had  a  frank  conversation  about  the  prison 
and  my  relation  to  it  as  an  inmate. 

I  told  Mr.  Zerbst  that  the  prison  as  an  institu- 
tion and  I  were  deadly  enemies,  but  that  within 
the  walls  I  should  observe  the  rules  and  get  along 
without  trouble.  I  gave  him  to  understand  that 
I  neither  desired,  expected,  nor  would  I  accept 
any  privileges  or  favors  that  were  denied  to  other 
prisoners.  All  I  asked  was  that  I  be  treated  the 
same  as  the  rest,  neither  better  nor  worse.  The 
warden  assured  me  that  on  that  basis  I  should 
have  no  cause  for  complaint. 

So  far  as  I  personally  am  concerned  I  have  no 
complaint  now  to  lodge  against  Warden  Zerbst, 
his  successor,  J.  E.  Dyche,  or  Mr.  Terrell  at 
Moundsville,  all  of  whom  treated  me  fairly  and 
humanely. 

One  day  a  prisoner  found  pasted  on  the  wall  of 
his  cell  a  quatrain,  anonymously  written,  which 
he  copied  and  gave  to  me.  I  put  it  in  here  not 
only  as  indicating  the  poetry  that  is  often  dis- 
covered in  the  hearts  of  some  prisoners,  but  as 
a  passionate  appeal  which  all  of  them  make  for 


64  WALLS   AND   BARS 

those  opportunities  in  society  whicli  are  so  often 
ruthlessly  denied  them: 

**0h,  oft  the  sky's  most  glorious  blue 
Smiles  through  the  captive's  cell, 

For  he  alone  of  heaven  can  think 
Who  dreams  through  nights  of  hell." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Shaeing  the  Lot  of  ^*Les  Miseeables*'. 

In  the  preceding  chapter  reference  was  made  to 
my  cell  and  cell  mates.  To  be  more  specific,  I 
was  lodged  in  Cell  No.  4,  Range  No.  7,  Cellhouse 
B.  In  this  limited  space  I  soon  began  to  feel 
that  we  had  to  set  up  a  little  world  of  onr  own. 

Cut  off  almost  completely  from  the  outside 
world  and  from  all  former  activities,  the  prob- 
lem of  what  it  was  possible  to  do  that  would  be 
helpful  or  of  some  service  to  my  fellow  prisoners 
as  well  as  myself  arose,  and  I  found  myself  oc- 
cupied in  making  a  daily  program  and  endeavor- 
ing to  carry  it  out.  I  missed  greatly  the  papers, 
magazines  and  other  literature  I  had  been  re- 
ceiving and  reading.  All  this  was  completely  ex- 
cluded by  order,  I  was  told,  of  the  Department 
of  Justice.  This  order  was  not  revoked  until  a 
few  days  before  I  left  the  prison.  The  issue  was 
raised  at  that  time  with  the  department  at  Wash- 
ington by  some  of  the  more  influential  publica- 
tions which  had  been  excluded,  and  whose  pub- 
lishers demanded  to  know  upon  what  authority 
papers  that  were  received  and  transmitted 
through  the  mails  were  intercepted  and  prevented 
from  reaching  their  destination. 

Not  a  socialist  or  radical  paper,  or  magazine, 


66  WALLS  AND   BARS 

or  book  addressed  to  rne  was  allowed  to  reach  me 
until  the  revocation  of  the  order  that  came  near 
the  expiration  of  my  term.  These  papers,  when 
they  arrived  at  the  prison,  were  torn  up  and 
thrown  into  the  wastebasket.  Parts  of  them  were 
sometimes  x^icked  out  and  pieced  together  by 
some  prisoner  employed  in  the  office  when  they 
contained  something  that  he  thought  might 
especially  interest  me,  and  he  would  hand  these 
scraps  to  me  in  the  stockade. 

For  reasons  not  necessary  to  explain  the  prison 
authorities  took  every  precaution  to  have  social- 
ist and  radical  literature  excluded  from  the  pris- 
on, and  in  this  they  were  no  more  successful  than 
in  keeping  out  ^'dope''  and  other  contraband 
articles. 

As  my  cell  became  my  world,  and  I  understood 
its  limitations,  it  began  to  expand  and  I  so 
adapted  myself  to  my  prison  situation  that  the 
steel  bars  and  gray  walls  melted  away.  I  set 
myself  at  liberty  in  a  way  to  demonstrate,  to  my- 
self at  least,  the  triumph  of  the  spirit  over  the 
material  environment  under  any  possible  cir- 
cumstances. During  the  day  I  was  at  my  work 
in  the  clothing  room  where  I  came  into  intimate 
contact  with  a  number  of  young  prisoners,  some 
of  whom  were  having  their  first  taste  of  prison 
life,  and  with  whose  co-operation  the  simple 
duties  exacted  from  me  were  performed  in  a 
spirit  of  mutual  sympathy  which  afforded  me, 
as  I  believe  it  did  them,  great  satisfaction. 


SHAKING  THE  LOT   OP   **LES   MISEEABLES*'        67 

Just  after  being  assigned  to  the  clotMng  room 
I  had  my  first  brush  with  prison  guards.  Here 
let  it  be  said  that  some  of  the  guards  are  decent 
and  humane  fellows  who  treat  the  prisoners  with 
all  the  consideration  the  rules  will  allow,  but  there 
are  others  who  are  scarcely  a  degree  above  the 
brute  and  wholly  unfit  to  have  authority  over 
helpless  prisoners. 

There  was  one  in  particular  whose  duty  it  was 
to  escort  the  prisoners  to  the  stockade.  He  was 
ashamed  of  his  club  and  refused  to  carry  it.  I 
never  once  saw  him  with  a  club  in  his  hands.  The 
hundreds  of  men  he  had  in  charge  held  him  in 
high  esteem  and  they  were  the  most  perfectly 
behaved  body  of  men  in  the  prison. 

The  incident  which  I  am  about  to  relate  oc- 
curred in  front  of  the  building  in  which  I  was 
employed.  The  isolation  building  to  which  pris- 
oners under  punishment  are  committed  was  near 
by.  The  rules  forbade  any  communication  with 
them  by  sign  or  otherwise.  All  of  the  prisoners 
in  isolation  were  interested  in  me  and  would 
watch  for  me  to  pass  their  grated  windows.  One 
day  one  of  them  called  me  by  name  and  waved 
his  hand  in  friendly  recognition.  I  waved  my 
hand  in  return. 

There  and  then  I  had  committed  a  grave  of- 
fence against  the  prison  code  and  was  myself  due 
for  a  course  of  bread  and  water  diet  in  isolation. 
A  guard  rushed  at  me  like  an  infuriated  bull,  up- 
braiding me  and  taking  my  number.     I  calmly 


68  WALLS  AND  BAES 

told  him  to  report  me  as  he  had  threatened  to  do, 
saymg  that  if  I  had  violated  a  rule  I  was  pre- 
pared to  take  the  consequences  the  same  as  any 
other  prisoner.  The  report  of  the  incident  rap- 
idly spread  among  the  other  prisoners  and  great 
excitement  prevailed  for  a  time. 

Would  they  put  me  in  the  ^^hole"?  That  ques- 
tion was  repeated  on  every  tongue.  I  neither 
knew,  nor  did  I  care.  I  wanted  what  came  to  all 
the  rest  of  the  prisoners  under  the  same  circum- 
stances, whatever  that  might  be.  The  guard  re- 
ported me  to  the  deputy  warden,  and  the  latter 
to  the  warden,  as  I  was  told,  but  nothing  came  of 
it.  It  was  my  first  reported  infraction,  and  the 
reader  may  judge  as  to  the  gravity  of  the  offence. 

Mealtime  always  presented  a  lively  scene  in 
the  general  mess.  Twenty  minutes  were  allowed 
at  table  and  conversation  was  permitted  during 
the  period.  Breakfast,  dinner  and  supper  were 
served  at  about  7,  12  and  5  o'clock  respectively. 
After  supper  we  marched  to  our  cells  and  there  we 
remained  until  the  breakfast  hour  the  following 
morning.  Fourteen  consecutive  hours  every  day 
in  the  week  to  be  locked  in  a  cage  with  five  other 
men  is  a  long  and  monotonous  siege,  as  any  pris- 
oner will  testify. 

At  Moundsville  the  prisoners  were  given  an 
hour  of  recreation  in  the  yard  after  their  supper 
before  being  committed  to  their  cells. 

On  one  of  his  regular  trips  of  inspection  of 
Atlanta     Penitentiary     Denver     S.     Dickerson, 


SHAKING   THE   LOT   OF   ''LES   MISEEABLES'*        69 

former  superintendent  of  federal  prisons,  came 
to  see  me  after  he  had  concluded  his  business 
with  the  prison,  and  in  our  interview  I  asked 
him  why  the  same  arrangement  could  not  be 
made  there  that  they  had  at  Moundsville.  I 
pointed  out  what  a  benefit  it  would  be  to  the  pris- 
oners and  what  a  good  moral  effect  it  would  have 
upon  them,  especially  during  the  sweltering  days 
of  the  long  southern  summer. 

He  agreed  to  see  what  could  be  done  about  it 
when  he  returned  to  Washington.  To  my  great 
satisfaction  the  order  was  issued  and  became 
effective  with  the  beginning  of  summer  and  re- 
mained so  during  the  entire  season.  Each  even- 
ing all  save  those  in  solitary  confinement  were 
given  the  freedom  of  the  ball  grounds  where 
prisoners  may  spend  Saturday  and  Sunday  after- 
noons, and  holidays.  For  some  reason  the  con- 
cession was  allowed  only  that  one  season.  I  was 
told  it  was  not  renewed  because  of  the  incon- 
venience occasioned  to  the  guards  by  having  to 
do  extra  duty  during  that  interval. 

The  evening  hours  spent  in  the  cell  were  de- 
voted mainly  to  reading  and  conversation.  Every 
conceivable  subject  was  brought  under  discus- 
sion, and  I  was  benefited  as  well  as  surprised  by 
the  wide  range  of  worldly  knowledge  possessed 
by  my  fellow  prisoners.  One  of  them  had 
travelled  extensively  in  Europe,  as  well  as  in 
this  country,  and  had  an  unending  fund  of  in- 
formation and  experience  to  relate.    Each  of  the 


70  WALLS   AND   BAES 

others  had  his  own  stories  to  tell,  and  here  it 
may  be  said  that  every  man  in  prison  embraces 
in  his  person  a  volume  of  biography  in  which  the 
tragedy  of  life  is  written  in  agony  and  tears.  In 
the  humblest  among  them  there  is  in  his  life's 
story  and  his  failure  to  overcome  the  odds 
against  him  a  dramatic  element  that  makes  him 
a  study  well  worth  while  to  any  one  who  loves 
his  fellow  man  and  wonders  why  he  happened 
to  be  marked  by  the  fates  to  have  his  life — the 
most  precious  thing  of  all  he  possesses — ^wasted 
in  a  prison  den. 

The  cell  in  which  I  had  settled  assumed  the 
institutional  form  of  a  perfect  little  democracy. 
We  had  all  things  in  common — or  would  have 
had  if  we  had  had  the  things.  This  reminds  me 
of  a  little  anecdote  related  by  one  of  the  convicts. 

Two  tramps  who  had  spent  the  night  together 
in  a  box-car  were  wondering  how  and  where  they 
were  to  get  their  breakfast. 

'*What  will  we  have  to  eat  this  morning' '? 
asked  the  first  one,  whose  sense  of  humor  had 
not  deserted  him. 

**WelP',  replied  the  second  one,  '*if  we  had 
ham  we  would  have  ham  and  eggs,  if  we  had  the 
eggs.'' 

But  speaking  seriously,  I  was  never  more  free 
in  my  life,  so  far  as  my  spirit  was  concerned, 
than  I  was  in  that  prison  cell.  There  was  never 
a  harsh  or  an  unkind  word  spoken  in  that  little 
community.    When  the  lights  were  switched  off 


SHAKING   THE   LOT   OP    *'lES    MISEEABLES"        71 

at  ten  o'clock,  and  we  had  to  retire  whether  we 
felt  like  sleeping  or  not,  we  bade  each  other  good 
night  just  as  though  we  had  been  intimates  all 
of  our  lives. 

The  incentive  to  greed  which  dominates  in  the 
other  world  was  lacking  there,  and  human  na- 
ture, unalloyed,  had  a  chance  to  express  itself, 
and  it  did  so  in  a  spirit  of  mutual  kindness  and 
understanding  which  greatly  impressed  me  and 
which  I  shall  never  forget. 

These  men  were  convicted  felons,  outcasts  from 
society,  pariahs,  and  yet  in  their  ministrations 
to  me  and  to  each  other  in  their  unselfish  desire 
to  give  rather  than  receive,  and  in  their  eagerness 
to  serve  rather  than  be  served,  they  set  an  ex- 
ample that  might  well  be  followed  by  some  peo- 
ple who  never  saw  the  inside  of  prison  walls. 

In  our  cell  in  the  great  Federal  Penitentiary 
from  which  the  world  was  shut  out  we  were  alike 
branded  as  criminal  convicts,  but  in  the  little 
community  tliat  we  had  set  up  in  that  cell  there 
was  not  the  slightest  trace  of  a  criminal,  and  the 
brotherly  relation  to  each  other,  and  the  condi- 
tion from  which  it  sprang  precluded  the  possi- 
bility of  crime  or  criminal  intent  from  entering 
that  voluntary  prison  brotherhood. 

The  prison  food  was  the  one  great  unending 
source  of  complaint.  The  same  is  time  to  a  great- 
er or  lesser  extent  of  every  jail  and  prison  in  the 
land.  There  was  no  lack  of  food  at  Atlanta  so 
far  as  quantity  was  concerned.  The  bread  was 
the  one  item  about  which  no  reasonable  complaint 


72  WALLS   AND   BAES 

could  be  made ;  as  for  the  rest,  it  was  the  cheap- 
est and  stalest  conglomeration  of  stuff  that  the 
market  afforded.  Coupled  with  this  was  the  fact 
that  the  food  was  never  properly  cooked,  but 
steamed  and  stewed.  Even  had  it  been  of  better 
quality  when  it  left  the  market-place,  it  would 
have  been  rendered  unedible  by  the  steaming 
process.  This  ill-cooked  stuff  was  served  in  a 
manner  to  cause  revulsion  to  all  alike,  and  that 
item  in  the  prison  life  aroused  more  ill-feeling 
and  resentment  than  all  other  causes  combined. 

No  satisfactory  system  of  feeding  prisoners, 
free  from  graft,  peculation  and  other  corrupt 
practices  known  to  prison  institutions  has  ever 
yet  been  devised  so  far  as  I  know.  The  usually 
accepted  theory  is  that  anything  is  good  enough 
for  jailbirds  and  convicts.  That  inhuman  attitude 
which  is  part  and  parcel  of  the  prison  discipline  is 
shared  by  society,  any  of  whose  members  may 
at  any  time  become  convicts  either  for  breaking 
the  law  or  for  upholding  the  law  in  time  of  public 
excitement  as  well  as  in  popular  tranquility. 
Whatever  modification  there  may  have  been  in 
the  barbarous  punitive  theory  in  relation  to 
offenders  against  society  that  system  is  still 
stoutly  upheld  and  vindicated  in  the  wretched 
menu  and  table  service  of  every  prison  in  the  land. 

It  is  extremely  difficult  to  say  whether  men 
who  go  to  prison  are  ruined  more  quickly  physic- 
ally by  the  rotten  food  served  to  them,  or  morally 
and   spiritually  by  the  harsh  and  bitter  treat- 


SHAEING   THE   LOT   OF   **LES   MISEKABLES''        73 

ment  they  receive.  "WTiichever  method  of  degra- 
dation comes  first  in  the  inevitable  prison  proc- 
ess of  human  deterioration,  it  can  be  said  with- 
out fear  of  contradiction  that  they  are  twin  evils 
in  reducing  men  to  caricatures. 

To  feed  prisoners  decently  and  wholesomely, 
not  extravagantly,  but  in  a  clean,  plain  and  sub- 
stantial manner  to  conserve  their  health  instead 
of  undermining  and  destroying  it,  would  do  more 
to  humanize  the  prison  and  to  make  it  reforma- 
tory, rather  than  a  deformatory,  than  any  other 
one  thing  that  could  be  suggested  in  the  prevail- 
ing social  system.  But  as  to  the  necessity  of  the 
prison  at  all  I  shall  have  something  to  say  in  a 
later  chapter. 

Such  a  system,  however,  will  never  be  estab- 
lished until  direct  and  effective  measures  have 
been  taken  to  eliminate  the  graft  of  one  kind 
and  another  in  the  contracts  under  which  the 
food  is  furnished,  and  in  the  handling  of  the  food 
inside  the  walls  from  the  time  it  is  delivered  un- 
til it  is  served  to  the  convicts. 

As  a  single  typical  instance  I  may  relate  the 
following  incident: 

It  was  commonly  understood  that  there  was  a 
regularly  organized  traffic  carried  on  in  the  pris- 
on kitchen  at  Atlanta  in  which  the  choicest  foods 
were  privately  sold  and  disposed  of  under  the 
government's  roof.  Two  of  my  cell-mates  had 
told  me  that  they  knew  of  two  employes  in  the 
kitchen  who  had  bought  their  jobs  at  a  hundred 


74  WALLS   AND   BAKS 

dollars  each.  In  their  positions  they  were  able 
to  realize  handsomely  from  the  foodstuffs  that 
passed  through  their  hands  by  selling  it  to  fa- 
vored prisoners  in  exchange  for  tobacco,  which, 
in  prison,  is  equivalent  to  legal  tender  in  the 
outer  world,  and  for  cash  when  they  could  strike 
a  bargain  either  inside  or  outside,  which  was  fre- 
quently the  case. 

Eealizing  that  the  general  run  of  the  prisoners 
Avere  the  victims  of  this  arrangement,  and  that 
they  were  not  getting  the  food  the  government 
was  paying  for,  I  reported  the  matter  to  Super- 
intendent Dickerson  on  his  next  visit  and  had 
him  confronted  with  the  men  who  made  the 
charge;  those  men  came  before  Mr.  Dickerson 
and  named  the  purchasers  and  the  sums  they  had 
paid  for  their  kitchen  jobs. 

Mr.  Dickerson  made  notes  of  the  evidence  and 
said  the  matter  would  be  investigated.  On  his 
leaving  the  city  the  two  men  who  gave  the  testi- 
mony and  exposed  the  corrupt  practice  were  re- 
duced to  menial  positions,  and  thus  were  made 
to  pay  the  penalty  for  exposing  one  of  the  vicious 
abuses  that  obtain  within  prison  walls. 

The  stockade  at  the  Atlanta  prison  in  which 
prisoners  enjoyed  their  brief  season  of  com- 
parative freedom  afforded  excellent  opportunity 
for  the  study  of  human  nature  as  it  is  influenced 
by  prison  life.  Each  day,  when  the  weather  per- 
mits, the  prisoners,  save  those  in  isolation,  are 
permitted  an  hour  in  the  stockade  to  which  they 


SHAKING   THE   LOT   OF    *'lES    MISEEABLES"        75 

are  escorted  in  relays  by  their  respective  guards. 

On  Saturday  and  Sunday  afternoons  when  the 
entire  body  of  prisoners  were  allowed  the  free- 
dom of  the  ball  park,  the  social  life  of  the  prison 
found  its  most  interesting  expression.  AH  sorts 
and  conditions  of  men  mingled  freely  there — men 
charged  with  every  conceivable  crime,  and  gener- 
ally regarded  as  dangerous  criminals.  Yet,  I 
never  saw  a  more  orderly  and  well-behaved 
crowd  of  people  in  the  outside  world. 

When  I  appeared  among  them  it  was  a  con- 
trriuous  reception  until  the  bugle  called  us  back 
to  our  cells.  Scores  of  these  prisoners  had  been 
waiting  during  the  week  for  the  ojDportunity  to 
tell  me  their  stories,  to  examine  the  papers  in 
their  cases,  to  read  their  letters,  and  to  give  them 
counsel.  My  time  among  them  was  wholly  taken 
up  in  this  way  and  often  I  was  unable  to  give 
attention  to  all  who  wished  to  see  me. 

It  was  in  this  way  that  I  came  to  know  inti- 
mately the  men  in  prison,  the  kind  of  men  they 
were,  how  they  came  to  be  there,  and  their  re- 
action to  prison  life.  It  was  to  me  a  sympathetic 
study  of  such  intense  human  interest  that  I  say 
deliberately  that  I  would  not  exchange  the  years 
spent  in  prison  for  any  similar  period  in  my  life. 

It  has  been  my  conviction  since  having  had  the 
actual  experience  that  only  the  inmate,  the  im- 
prisoned convict,  actually  knows  the  prison  and 
what  it  means  to  him  and  his  kind.  Even  the 
officials  in  charge  and  on  the  grounds,  and  in 


76  WALLS   AND   BARS 

close  personal  contact  with  the  inmates,  do  not 
know  the  prison.  Indeed,  they  cannot  know  it, 
for  they  have  never  felt  its  blighting  influence, 
nor  been  oppressed  by  its  rigorous  discipline; 
nor  have  they  suffered  the  mental  and  physical 
hunger,  the  isolation,  the  deprivation  and  the 
cruel  and  relentless  punishment  it  imposes. 

If  one  could  read  what  the  iron  fist  of  the  prison 
traces  in  the  heart  of  its  inmate,  what  is  regis- 
tered there  in  bitterness  and  resentment,  he 
would  know  more  about  the  prison  than  he  could 
ever  learn  in  a  life  time  as  a  mere  observer  or 
even  as  an  officer  in  charge. 

Many  persons  visit  prisons  and  imagine  after 
being  conducted  through  its  corridors  and  over 
its  grounds  that  they  have  learned  something 
about  that  mysterious  institution;  not  a  few  of 
them  are  impressed  with  the  plaza  at  the  front  of 
the  reservation  and  with  other  external  features 
intended  to  relieve  the  grimness  of  the  gray  walls 
and  steel  bars.  They  conclude  that  the  state  has 
provided  a  comfortable  resort  and  has  done 
handsomely  by  the  criminals  who  are  confined 
there. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  have  been  permitted 
to  make  but  a  very  superficial  examination  and 
have  been  shown  only  such  parts  of  the  institu- 
tion as  were  most  likely  to  impress  them  favor- 
ably, and  to  send  them  forth  commenting  upon 
the  humaneness  with  which  the  state  treats  its 
prisoners. 


SHAKING    THE   LOT    OF    ^*LES    MISEKABLES"         7T 

Had  these  visitors  and  others,  who  complacent- 
ly acx2ept  the  present  prison  as  the  final  solution 
of  the  crime  problem,  been  obliged  to  spend  a 
month  within  the  walls,  submit  to  the  iron  dis- 
cipline enforced  there,  eat  the  nauseating  food, 
and  feel  themselves  isolated,  cramped,  watched 
day  and  night,  counted  at  regular  intervals,  and 
dwarfed  and  dulled  by  the  daily  deadly  routine, 
they  would  undergo  a  radical  change  of  opinion 
in  regard  to  the  lot  of  men  and  women  who  are 
caged  like  animals  by  human  society. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Teansferred  From  My  Cell  to  the  Hospital. 

After  spending  two  months  in  a  cell  during  tlie 
blazing  hot  summer  of  1919,  and  starved  rather 
than  nourished  by  the  food,  I  was  reduced  to 
almost  a  skeleton.  My  normal  weight  is  185 
pounds,  but  at  the  time  of  my  transfer  to  the 
hospital  I  weighed  less  than  160.  Reports  as  to 
my  being  in  a  critical  condition  reached  the  out- 
side world,  and  the  warden  received  frequent  in- 
quiries both  from  the  press  and  my  friends  con- 
cerning my  health. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  press  in  Atlanta 
received  advices  from  New  York  that  I  had  been 
reported  dead.  The  warden  was  besieged  with 
inquiries  by  telephone  and  otherwise.  Not  con- 
tented with  his  assurance  that  I  was  alive,  the 
press  representatives  came  to  the  prison  and 
would  not  be  satisfied  until  the  warden  sent  for 
me  to  appear  before  them  and  contradict  the  re- 
port of  my  demise.  But  it  must  be  confessed  in 
all  candor,  that  in  all  but  the  spirit  there  was 
scarcely  enough  left  of  me  to  make  a  successful 
denial. 

Having  heard  these  alarming  reports,  my  com- 
rades in  Ohio,  from  whence  I  had  been  sent  to 
prison,  asked  Mrs.  Marguerite  Prevey,  who  had 


TEANSFEKEED   FEOM    CELL   TO    HOSPITAL  79 

been  one  of  the  signers  of  my  bond  in  the  federal 
court  at  Cleveland,  to  come  to  Atlanta  to  make 
a  personal  observation  of  me.  Mrs.  Prevey  ap- 
peared to  be  greatly  shocked  when  she  saw  me 
and  noted  the  change  that  my  physical  condition 
had  undergone  in  prison.  After  my  interview 
with  her,  unbeknown  to  me,  she  saw  the  warden, 
and  as  the  result  of  her  talk  with  him  I  was  or- 
dered transferred  to  the  hospital  that  same 
evening. 

Upon  being  advised  of  the  order  I  protested 
and  endeavored  to  see  the  warden  to  have  it  re- 
voked, but  he  had  already  left  for  his  home.  The 
recollection  of  my  former  reception  at  the  hos- 
pital when  I  went  there  for  examination  on  being 
admitted  to  the  prison  lingered  to  remind  me 
that  I  was  not  welcome  there. 

That  evening  in  the  hospital  I  had  a  brusque 
interchange  with  Mr.  John  C.  Weaver,  the  prison 
physician,  who,  I  felt  had  not  a  sympathetic  feel- 
ing for  me.  But  subsequently  we  came  to  a  mu- 
tual understanding  and  were  on  most  agreeable 
terms  all  the  time  I  was  there.  The  following 
morning  Dr.  Weaver  explained  in  a  friendly  way 
that  I  had  been  ordered  to  the  hospital  where  I 
might  have  the  care  and  attention  that  he  said 
my  condition  required,  and  that  I  would  soon 
realize  the  change  was  to  my  advantage.  Dr. 
Edgar  S.  Bullis,  who  at  that  time  was  the  as- 
sistant physician,  had  said,  in  answer  to  an  in- 
quiry, '^Debs  may  die  any  minute '\     This  re- 


80  WALLS  AND  BAES 

port  reached  the  Department  of  Justice  at  Wash- 
ington and  a  telegraphic  order  was  issued  by 
Attorney  General  Palmer  for  a  special  exami- 
nation and  for  an  immediate  report  of  my  con- 
dition. 

My  heart  action  was  weak  on  account  of  the 
low  state  of  my  vitality,  and  this  was  the  ex- 
citing cause  of  the  alarming  statements  that 
eminated  from  the  prison.  Just  what  kind  of  an 
official  report  was  issued  in  my  case  the  rules 
did  not  permit  me  to  know,  but  I  could  not  help 
wondering  why  on  two  separate  occasions  special 
information  as  to  the  state  of  my  health  was 
ordered  from  Washington,  knowing  that,  save  in 
a  single  instance  which  is  too  well  known  to  merit 
mention  here,  no  prisoner  had  ever  been  released 
from  Atlanta  on  account  of  his  physical  condi- 
tion, or  because  of  the  probability  of  his  dying 
there.  Many  inmates  died  in  the  prison  hospital 
while  I  was  there.  Some  of  the  cases  were  too 
pathetic  for  words.  Mothers,  fathers,  wives  and 
children  often  entreated  in  tears  that  their  be- 
loved might  be  returned  to  them  and  allowed  to  die 
at  home  rather  than  in  prison  with  its  attendant 
disgrace  to  the  bereaved  ones.    But  all  in  vain ! 

I  recall  a  number  of  particularly  tragic  and 
heartbreaking  instances.  There  is  space  to  relate 
but  one  of  them. 

A  fellow  prisoner  of  exceptionally  fine  fibre, 
with  whom  I  became  quite  intimate,  was  taken 
seriously  ill  and  brought  to  the  hospital.    He  was 


TBANSFEEBED   FKOM   CELL   TO   HOSPITAL  81 

a  man  of  refined  nature  who  loved  music,  litera- 
ture, children  and  pets.  We  had  spent  some  very 
agreeable  hours  together.  This  was  his  first 
offence  against  the  law,  and  he  became  a  convict 
as  the  result  of  an  unfortunate  business  trans- 
action, his  lawyers  having  completed  his  ruin. 
No  man  could  possibly  have  been  more  out  of 
place  in  the  role  of  a  convict  than  this  gentle 
soul.  He  was  eligible  for  parole,  but  it  was  de- 
nied him. 

I  should  like  to  observe  here  that  in  the  mat- 
ter of  parole  the  granting  of  some  seems  as 
strange  as  the  refusal  of  others  to  those  who  do 
not  know  the  hidden  hands  that  pull  the  wires 
behind  the  scenes.  Money  and  political  in- 
fluence are  frequently  determining  factors  in 
such  issues. 

This  aflSicted  prisoner  made  a  special  appeal 
to  the  superintendent  of  prisons  that  the  parole, 
to  which  he  was  eligible,  might  be  granted  so 
as  to  enable  him  to  undergo  a  very  necessary 
operation  at  a  hospital  in  New  York,  his  home. 
His  request  was  denied. 

At  this  time  the  superintendent  of  prisoners 
was  a  minister  of  the  gospel. 

The  wife  of  the  prisoner  went  to  Washington 
and  made  a  tearful  plea  to  the  Department  of 
Justice,  but  to  no  avail.  Resigned  to  his  fate, 
the  prisoner  submitted  to  an  operation  in  the 
prison  hospital  in  a  most  downcast  frame  of  mind 
and  spirit. 


82  WALLS  AND   BAKS 

Before  going  under  the  surgeon's  knife  he 
asked  me  to  write  a  telegram  to  his  wife,  reas- 
suring her  as  to  the  operation  being  successful 
and  giving  promise  of  speedy  recovery.  I  wrote 
the  telegram  and  it  was  sent  in  accordance  with 
his  wishes.  The  next  morning  I  tip-toed  into  his 
room  and  found  him  ghastly  pale,  scarcely 
breathing,  and  unable  to  speak.  In  calling  on 
him  I  had  violated  a  prison  rule  which  forbids 
a  prisoner  going  into  the  room  of  another  con- 
vict. My  instinct  of  common  humanity  compelled 
me  to  persistently  violate  tliis  senseless  rule  all 
the  time  I  was  there.  That  evening  my  friend 
was  dead.  The  report  came  to  me  as  a  painful 
shock,  though  it  did  not  surprise  me.  It  would 
have  required  a  contented,  peaceful  state  of  mind 
for  a  man  to  have  undergone  such  an  operation 
successfully  outside  of  prison.  In  this  man's  de- 
pressed condition  the  surgeon's  knife  only  sealed 
the  doom  that  was  already  upon  him. 

His  wife  and  children,  a  beautiful  family,  were 
heart-broken.  The  tragic  scene  that  was  enacted 
behind  those  grim,  gray  walls  when  the  wife 
came  to  claim  the  body  of  the  beloved  husband 
and  father  cannot  be  described  here.  It  was  but 
one  of  the  many  unspeakably  moving  incidents  of 
prison  barbarity. 

In  many  cases  there  are  no  loved  ones  to  gent- 
ly bear  the  convict's  body  back  to  the  homestead 
and  the  remains  are  unceremoniously  carted  to 
the  weed-grown  prison  burial  ground  to  vanish 


TRANSFEEEED   FEOM   CELL   TO   HOSPITAL  83 

in  that  forsaken  enclosure  from  tlie  scenes  of  men 
and  there  foil  ignominy  and  disgrace  by  rotting 
away  in  oblivion. 

A  prison  hospital  appeals  not  only  to  sympa- 
thetic study  by  its  many  pathetic  aspects,  but  it 
excites  all  the  emotions  of  the  soul  of  a  sensitive 
human  nature.  I  still  feel  the  stab  of  pain  I  ex- 
perienced on  bidding  my  last  farewell  to  my 
mates,  one  in  an  adjoining  room,  his  loyal  wife 
sitting  by  his  side  and  the  eyes  of  both  filled  with 
tears;  another  close  by  suffering  from  locomotor 
ataxia ;  another  with  an  arm  gone  and  still  another 
paralyzed — and  so  on,  in  all  the  rooms  and  wards 
surrounding  me.  Such  suffering,  misery,  help- 
lessness and  despair !  "What  pen  or  tongue  could 
do  it  justice?  The  wails  of  agony,  the  groans  of 
despair  echoing  through  those  sepulchral  cor- 
ridors the  long,  interminable  nights  through!  I 
can  still  hear  them  and  they  awaken  me  from  my 
slumber. 

Not  only  are  these  suffering  wretches  con- 
victs, but  they  are  the  diseased  and  maimed  in- 
mates of  a  hospital  within  the  prison.  These  in- 
describably hapless  victims  are  imprisoned  in  a 
double  sense.  I  have  seen  men  die  in  there  under 
circumstances  that  would  move  a  heart  of  stone 
and  bring  tears  to  the  eyes  of  those  not  easily 
moved  by  another's  woe. 

One  of  the  most  harrowing  aspects  of  the 
prison  hospital  is  the  drug  addict  whom  I  learned 
to  know  there  in  a  way  to  compel  the  most  vivid 


84  WALLS   AND   BAKS 

and  shocking  remembrance  of  him  to  the  last  of 
my  days.  It  is  incredible  that  a  human  being 
mentally  and  physically  afflicted  should  be  con- 
signed by  a  so-called  court  of  justice  in  a  civil- 
ized and  Christian  nation  to  a  penitentiary  as  a 
felon,  there  to  expiate  his  weakness;  and  yet, 
hundreds  of  these  unfortunates  were  sent  to  At- 
lanta prison  while  I  was  there,  and  ofttimes  I  had 
to  bear  witness  to  the  horror  of  their  torture 
when  they  were  summarily  separated  from  the 
drug  they  craved. 

I  have  seen  these  addicts  seized  with  the  mad- 
ness and  convulsions  peculiar  to  their  condition, 
and  which  are  terrible  even  in  memory.  As  many 
as  a  score  and  more  of  these  drug  victims  were 
brought  to  the  hospital  at  once,  and  the  first  few 
days  of  some  of  them  were  filled  with  all  the 
ghastly  and  gruesome  writhings,  shrieks  and  en- 
treaties, and  all  the  hideous  torments  ever  con- 
jured up  in  the  infernal  regions. 

One  young  man,  who  occupied  the  room  next 
to  mine  shortly  after  I  entered  the  hospital,  in- 
voluntarily compelled  me  to  share  his  agony  and 
torture.  For  the  first  week  or  more  he  could 
not  eat  a  morsel  of  food,  nor  be  at  rest  a  mo- 
ment. His  eyes  rolled  in  their  sockets,  he  raved 
like  a  madman,  tore  his  hair,  swore  and  prayed 
by  turns,  begged  to  be  saved  one  moment  and 
pleading  for  death  the  next — all  this  excruciating 
agony  for  just  one  **shot  of  the  dope''  for  which 
he  would  have  bartered  his    soul    to    the    devil. 


TRANSFEKKED    FROM    CELL   TO    HOSPITAL  85 

This  lad  was  under  what  is  called  the  **cold  tur- 
key treatment,  the  drug  being  entirely  cut  off 
in  accordance  with  the  rules  of  the  prison.  The 
pity  I  felt  for  him  and  for  others  in  a  more 
or  less  similar  condition  made  me  ill.  Night  after 
night  there  was  no  sleep  because  of  the  suffering 
and  outcries  of  these  wretched  creatures. 

Blame  them  as  one  may,  how  is  it  possible  in 
good  conscience  to  punish  them  for  their  awful 
affliction  with  a  prison  sentence  as  if  they  were 
common  felons.  They  are  sick  people  who  re- 
quire special  treatment,  and  not  vicious  ones  to 
be  sent  to  the  torture  chamber  of  a  prison,  and  it 
is  nothing  less  than  a  reproach  to  society  and  a 
disgrace  to  our  civilization  that  this  malady  is 
branded  as  a  crime  instead  of  being  ministered 
to  as  an  affliction,  which  it  most  assuredly  is. 

It  would  be  quite  as  rational  and  humane  to 
send  men  to  the  penitentiary  and  make  them  slaves 
of  the  galleys  because  they  happened  to  have 
cancer  or  consumption  as  it  is  to  sentence  and 
treat  them  as  criminals  for  being  addicted  to  the 
use  of  drugs. 

In  the  light  of  such  crude  and  barbarous  mis- 
apprehension of  the  evil  itself,  and  the  utterly 
stupid  and  unscientific  way  of  dealing  with  it, 
we  may  well  stand  appalled  as  we  contemplate 
the  startling  and  menacing  increase  in  the  num- 
ber of  **dope  fiends '*  all  over  the  United  States. 

Very  shortly  after  I  entered  the  hospital  a 
brutal  and  bloody  assault  was  made  by  a  hospital 


86  WALLS   AND    BAKS 

guard  on  passing  a  prisoner  who  was  not  an  in- 
mate of  the  hospital.  The  attack  was  utterly 
without  provocation.  This  guard,  for  reasons  of 
his  own,  appeared  to  be  especially  kind  to  me, 
but  a  terror  to  the  other  prisoners.  With  a  blow 
of  his  club  he  felled  his  victim  who  cried  aloud 
that  he  had  done  nothing  to  warrant  the  assault 
made  upon  him.  The  blood  streamed  from  the 
wound  in  his  scalp. 

The  warden  soon  heard  of  the  incident  and 
hurried  over  to  the  hospital  to  investigate  it.  He 
jcame  to  see  me  at  once  and  I  told  him  what  I 
knew  of  the  outrage.  I  had  not  witnessed  the 
attack,  but  I  had  heard  the  thud  of  the  club  and 
the  prisoner  shriek  from  pain. 

Let  it  be  said  to  the  warden's  credit  that  he 
discharged  the  guard  instantly  and  the  latter  left 
town  that  night,  it  being  reported  that  some  of 
his  previous  victims  were  laying  for  him  to 
avenge  the  brutalities  they  had  suffered  at  his 
hands.  He  was  never  again  heard  from  at  the 
prison. 

At  the  time  this  guard  was  removed  I  ventured 
to  recommend  a  certain  other  guard  to  fill  the 
vacancy.  He  was  appointed  and  has  been  there 
ever  since.  After  this  incident  occurred  there 
was  a  most  radical  change  in  the  temper  and 
morale  of  the  prison  hospital.  The  terrorism 
which  had  previously  prevailed  ceased,  and  from 
that  time  forward  there  was  an  entirely  different 


TRANSFERBED   FROM   CELL   TO   HOSPITAL  87 

moral  condition  and  a  different  relation  between 
the  guards  and  inmates  of  the  hospital. 

I  was  permitted  by  implied,  if  not  by  expressed 
sanction  of  the  prison  officials,  to  serve  and  min- 
ister to  the  sick  and  afflicted  prisoners.  I  wrote 
for  them  the  letters  they  either  could  not  write, 
or  were  too  ill  to  write;  filled  out  their  pardon, 
parole  and  commutation  blanks;  interceded  for 
them  whenever  possible;  gave  them  counsel  and 
advice  when  they  sought  it,  and  in  the  intervals 
when  we  sat  and  smoked  in  the  ''sun  parlor '^  we 
had  many  an  hour  of  mutually  heartening  com- 
munion together. 

How  often  they  brought  me  their  letters,  either 
because  they  could  not  read,  or  because  they 
wished  me  to  share  in  the  grief  or  gladness  that 
might  be  contained  in  the  missives  from  home! 
I  have  often  since  thought  that  if  I  but  had  pos- 
session of  the  letters  received  by  prisoners  at 
Atlanta  which  I  was  permitted  to  read,  and  these 
could  be  printed  and  bound  they  would  present  a 
volume  of  prison  literature  that  would  make  the 
gods  themselves  cry  out  in  jorotest  against  the 
shocking  cruelties  now  perpetrated  upon  the  in- 
nocent families  of  the  convicts,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  prisoners  themselves  under  the  present  harsh, 
cruel  and  callous  regime  that  obtains  in  every 
penal  institution  in  the  land. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

VisiTOKS  AND  Visiting. 

The  circumstances  under  which  visitors  are  per- 
mitted to  see  a  prisoner  are  such  that  I  did  not 
encourage  my  friends  to  come  to  see  me.  On  the 
contrary,  I  had  too  much  respect  for  them  to  wish 
to  have  them  subjected  to  the  rules  of  the  prison 
governing  visits  and  visitors. 

The  visiting  privilege  is  a  very  restricted  one 
in  the  average  prison  and  Atlanta  is  no  exception 
to  the  rule.  From  thirty  minutes  to  an  hour  is 
the  time  allotted.  Persons  coming  to  see  their 
friend  or  loved  one  in  prison  are  likely  to  be 
shocked  by  the  rude  manner  in  which  tiiey  are 
received  by  the  guard  at  the  main  gate  of  the 
prison. 

At  Atlanta  a  visitor  must  first  pass  two  out- 
post guards  stationed  on  the  reservation  like 
sentinels.  These  guards  are  armed  with  Win- 
chester rifles,  and  as  a  visitor  approaches  the 
main  walk  the  guard  comes  out  from  his  solitary 
barrack  and  inquires  his  business.  This  is  purely 
perfunctory  on  the  part  of  the  guard  for  the  vis- 
itor invariably  is  permitted  to  pass  on.  The  sec- 
ond sentinel  is  quartered  directly  in  front  of  the 
main  entrance  to  the  prison.  He  also  inquires 
as  to  the  visitor's  business,  and  scrutinizes  him 


VISITORS   AND   VISITING  89 

to  see  if  he  carries  a  camera  or  weapons,  al- 
though no  search  is  made  of  the  visitor. 

By  this  time  our  friend  from  the  outside  world 
has  been  impressed  that  he  is  about  to  enter  a 
prison,  the  inner  workings  of  which  are  dark  and 
forbidding.  Before  the  gate  is  opened  to  admit 
him  a  guard  peers  through  the  bars  and  asks  what 
is  wanted.  If  he  is  satisfied  that  the  call  is  a 
legitimate  one  he  will  open  the  gate;  if  not,  the 
visitor  is  sent  away. 

Once  inside  the  penitentiary,  the  visitor  is  es- 
corted to  a  little  desk  in  the  main  corridor  where 
he  fills  out  a  small  blank,  stating  the  name  of 
the  prisoner  he  wants  to  see,  his  own  name  and 
address,  and  the  reason  for  his  calling  upon  the 
inmate.  The  guard  takes  this  slip  and  writes 
the  registration  number  of  the  convict  in  one  cor- 
ner. Then  a  hurried  inquiry  is  made  by  the  guard 
to  ascertain  whether  or  not  the  particular  pris- 
oner has  had  his  quota  of  visitors  for  that  month. 
If  he  has,  the  new  arrival  is  told  that  he  cannot 
see  the  prisoner  for  that  reason.  In  cases  where 
the  visitor  has  come  from  a  distance,  and  can 
show  that  he  has  peculiarly  personal  reason  for 
his  visit  an  appeal  may  be  made  to  the  guard  who, 
in  turn,  may  obtain  sanction  from  the  warden,  or 
some  other  higher  official,  to  grant  the  interview. 
In  cases  of  this  kind  the  prisoner  is  always  im- 
pressed with  the  fact  that  a  special  dispensation 
of  justice  has  been  made  in  his  behalf. 

A  convict  runner  or  messenger  always  stationed 


90  WALLS   AND   BAKS 

in  the  corridor  beyond  the  second  gate  takes  the 
slip  from  the  first  guard  and  goes  to  call  the 
prisoner,  wherever  he  may  be,  who  is  merely  told 
that  his  presence  is  wanted  in  the  office  of  the 
captain  of  the  guards.  A  prisoner  so  informed 
does  not  know  that  he  has  a  caller  awaiting  him, 
and  on  the  way  to  the  office  he  has  often  con- 
jured up  in  his  mind  some  form  of  punishment 
that  is  about  to  be  meted  out  to  him  for  reasons 
that  he  does  not  know.  This  suspense  is  not  long, 
however,  for  he  is  escorted  from  the  captain's 
office  to  one  of  several  reception  rooms  where  in- 
terviews with  prisoners  are  permitted. 

The  visitor  waiting  in  the  corridor  is  now 
notified  that  the  interview  is  about  to  take  place, 
and  he  follows  a  guard  into  the  reception  room 
where  the  prisoner  is  sitting  on  the  far  side  of 
a  long,  plain  table.  The  room  is  perfectly  bare, 
and  barred  at  the  windows.  The  visitor  must  sit 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  and  keep  his 
hands  in  view  of  the  guard  who  sits  at  the  head 
of  the  table  and  overhears  every  word  that  is 
said,  and  sees  that  nothing  passes  between  the 
prisoner  and  his  visitor.  To  prevent  the  latter 
the  table  has  underneath  it  a  partition  that  ex- 
tends down  to  the  floor.  No  writing,  not  even 
a  scrap  of  paper  is  permitted  to  be  handed  to 
the  prisoner  until  it  is  first  inspected  by  the 
guard  who  may  or  may  not  permit  the  convict  to 
receive  it. 

A  rather  humorous  incident  is  recalled  here. 


VISITORS   AND   VISITING  91 

A  friend  came  to  see  me  and  brought  a  letter  that 
he  wished  me  to  read.  He  attempted  to  pass  the 
letter  to  me,  but  the  guard  snatched  it  from  his 
hand  saying,  *^Here,  let  me  see  that''.  He  ex- 
amined the  document  critically,  but  it  was  ap- 
parent that  he  could  not  read  it,  and  he  had  to 
pass  it  to  my  friend  and  have  it  read  to  him. 
The  exceedingly  stupid  expression  upon  the  fkce 
of  the  guard  while  the  missive  was  being  read  to 
him  indicated  the  grade  of  intelligence  that  is 
placed  and  kept  in  a  federal  prison  under  civil 
service  regulations. 

There  are  men  in  prison  who  will  not  permit 
their  wives  and  daughters,  or,  in  fact,  any  woman 
for  whom  they  have  respect,  to  come  to  see  them. 
The  reason  for  this  attitude  on  the  prisoners' 
part  became  apparent  to  the  writer  when  he  per- 
ceived the  low  moral  state  of  the  prison  in  gen- 
eral and  some  of  its  attaches  in  particular.  No 
man  who  is  sensitive  about  that  sort  of  thing 
cares  to  risk  having  his  wife  or  daughter  made 
the  target  of  lewd  and  lascivious  comments  from 
the  guards  or  inmates.  So  far  as  any  wantonness 
may  be  manifested  by  the  prisoners,  it  is  at  least 
excusable  on  the  ground  that  the  manner  and 
method  of  their  isolation  is  of  itself  unnatural, 
and  therefore  gives  rise  to  tlioughts  that  would 
not  be  perverted  were  they  not  caged  like  wild 
beasts  and  their  natural  instincts  repressed,  and 
therefore  unclean. 

Visitors  bringing  fruits,    candies,    tobacco  or 


92  WALLS   AND   BAKS 

other  articles  to  their  friends  behind  the  bars 
are  subjected  to  both  surprise  and  disappoint- 
ment. The  guard  takes  possession  of  the  gifts 
with  the  statement  that  he  will  have  to  deposit 
them  in  the  office  before  turning  them  over  to 
the  prisoner ;  the  chances  are  that  the  convict  has 
seen  the  last  of  the  articles  selected  for  him  by 
loving  and  tender  hands.  It  requires  no  flight 
of  the  imagination  to  figure  out  in  whose  hands 
they  have  fallen,  and  will  probably  remain. 
Articles  without  number  brought  or  sent  to  me 
by  friends  never  came  into  my  hands.  Gifts  to 
prisoners  are  considered  the  legitimate  spoils  for 
the  prison  attaches  who  handle  them. 

Incidentally,  if  you  were  a  prisoner,  and  your 
friend  had  sent  a  nice  pipe,  or  a  necktie,  or  any 
other  article  of  that  kind,  it  would  not  be  sur- 
prising if  it  did  not  reach  you  at  all.  Very  often 
an  inferior  article  is  substituted  for  the  one  sent. 
If  you  have  a  friend  in  prison  and  you  send  him 
a  fine  pipe  it  is  not  unlikely  that  it  will  be  re- 
placed by  a  cheap  pipe,  and  the  helpless  prisoner 
is  grimly  amused  when  he  receives  your  letter 
and  reads  your  comment  about  the  nice  pipe  he  is 
now  smoking  in  the  solitude  of  his  cell.  A  num- 
ber of  such  instances  were  brought  to  my  atten- 
tion. A  friend  of  mine  in  Florida  who  is  a  mer- 
chant, sent  me  a  large  box  containing  animal 
crackers  done  up  in  small  packages.  I  always 
gave  those  kind  of  things  away,  passing  them 
around   among   the    other   prisoners,    and   as   I 


VISITOES   AND   VISITING  93 

opened  the  case  I  was  happy  in  the  thought  that 
these  crackers  would  go  a  long  way — there  ap- 
j)eared  to  be  so  many  of  them.  When  I  had  taken 
out  the  top  layer  of  packages  the  layers  under- 
neath collapsed;  the  box  had  been  robbed  before 
it  got  to  me,  and  had  been  skillfully  "  packed '^ 
so  as  to  present  an  intact  appearance. 

There  were  a  great  many  persons  who  were 
desirous  of  visiting  me  at  Atlanta,  including  a 
considerable  number  of  residents  of  that  city  and 
vicinity,  but  for  obvious  reasons  it  was  not  pos- 
sible for  me  to  see  them. 

First  of  all,  as  I  have  said,  I  felt  a  reluctance, 
as  many  other  prisoners  do,  to  have  those  I  love 
and  esteem  subjected  to  the  humiliating  condi- 
tions imposed  upon  visitors  by  the  prison  regime. 
In  the  next  place,  my  attitude  from  the  begin- 
ning had  been  that  I  would  permit  the  prison  to 
confer  no  privilege  upon  me,  and  I  had  no  right 
to  expect  any  favors  on  this  score.  It  was  in 
consequence  of  this  that  the  report  went  out  from 
Atlanta  that  I  had  refused  to  see  certain  visitors. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  such  instances  were  due 
either  to  my  already  having  received  the  full 
quota  of  visitors  allowed  by  the  rules,  or  else 
because  the  visitor  happened  to  have  come  under 
the  head  of  a  certain  order  that  was  specially 
issued  in  my  case  by  the  department  at  Wash- 
ington, and  which  placed  me  incommunicado  for 
a  time.  In  this  position  no  press  representative 
was  permitted  to  see  me,  nor  in  fact  anyone  else 


94  WALLS   AND  BABS 

save  in  the  discretion  of  the  warden.  Of  this 
order  of  the  department,  which  completely  sus- 
pended my  writing  and  visiting  privileges  for  a 
time,  I  shall  have  more  to  say  in  a  later  chapter. 

An  interesting  visit  to  me  was  that  of  the  dele- 
gation of  socialists  composing  the  state  conven- 
tion of  the  party  in  Georgia.  This  visit  occurred 
during  the  administration  of  Warden  Zerbst  who 
had  given  the  convention  special  permission, 
upon  their  application,  to  visit  me  in  a  body. 
There  were  fully  a  hundred  or  more  men  and 
women  in  the  delegation  that  came  to  the  prison, 
and  I  was  permitted  to  meet  them  in  the  main 
corridor  where  I  was  tendered  their  congratula- 
tions in  the  most  loyal  and  devoted  terms,  and  to 
which  I  made  due  response.  It  was  to  me  a  most 
impressive  occasion,  and  I  doubt  if  a  similar  in- 
cident ever  occurred  before  in  an  American 
prison. 

During  the  informalities  the  guards  stood  by 
attentively,  and  I  felt  that  they  were  as  respon- 
sive to  the  beautiful  spirit  of  the  occasion  as 
their  prison  duty  would  allow.  Tears  glistened 
in  the  eyes  of  most  of  these  comrades  of  mine  as 
they  took  me  by  the  hand  one  by  one  and  passed 
out  through  the  prison  doors. 

It  is  true  that  I  did  receive  many  visitors  in 
the  nearly  three  years  that  I  spent  in  Atlanta 
prison.  As  far  as  it  was  possible,  I  discouraged 
persons  from  coming  to  see  me.  I  knew  well 
enough  that  many  of  my  fellow  prisoners  never 


VISITOES   AND   VISITING  95 

received  a  single  visitor  in  all  the  years  they  had 
spent  behind  those  gray,  grim  vralls.  Yet,  I  could 
not  share  my  visitors  with  these  neglected  souls, 
and  I  wanted  nothing  that  they  could  not  have. 
I  anticipate  the  comment  that  this  may  be  purely 
sentimental  on  my  part,  but  whether  it  is  or  not, 
I  tried  to  be  careful  lest  some  favor  or  privilege 
were  extended  to  me  because  of  the  position  that 
I  had  held  in  the  outside  world,  that  would  em- 
phasize in  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  neglected 
prisoner  his  own  loneliness  and  isolation. 

Among  other  visitors  there  were  a  number  of 
prominent  persons  who  came  to  see  me,  and  these 
included  Clarence  Darrow,  attorney,  of  Chicago; 
Melville  E.  Stone,  former  general  manager  of  the 
Associated  Press;  Norman  Hapgood,  former 
United  States  minister  to  Denmark  and  publicist; 
Samuel  Gompers,  president  of  the  American 
Federation  of  Labor,  and  Lincoln  Steffens,  au- 
thor and  journalist.  I  have  known  Mr.  Darrow 
for  many  years.  He. was  one  of  my  attorneys  in 
the  federal  court  proceedings  that  resulted  from 
the  great  railroad  strike  of  1894  sponsored  by  the 
American  Eailway  Union  of  which  I  was  presi- 
dent. I  have  had  several  very  happy  personal 
meetings  with  Mr.  Darrow  since  those  distant 
days,  and  not  the  least  of  the  pleasant  ones  oc- 
curred when  he  came  to  see  me  of  his  own 
volition  in  Atlanta  prison. 

Mr.   Darrow  had  been  to  Washington  inter- 
ceding in  my  behalf.    He  was  on  personal  terms 


96  WALLS  AND   BABS 

witJi  Newton  D.  Baker,  then  secretary  of  war, 
and  A.  Mitchell  Palmer,  former  attorney  gen- 
eral. Mr.  Darrow  reported  to  me  that  Mr. 
Palmer  had  expressed  himself  as  being  more  than 
casually  interested  in  my  case,  and  that  Mr. 
Baker  was  not  unfriendly  disposed  toward  me. 

Mr.  Darrow  asked  me  if  I  had  any  objection  in 
his  seeing  what  he  could  do  in  my  behalf  looking 
toward  a  possible  release  from  prison,  and  if  I 
had  any  objection  to  others  working  along  similar 
lines  with  a  similar  purpose  in  view.  I  told  Mr, 
Darrow  that  I  would  ask  for  nothing  for  myself, 
nor  did  I  wish  my  friends  to  appeal  specially  in 
my  behalf  for  executive  clemency.  I  told  him  that 
I  could  not  prevent  my  friends  doing  what  they 
could  for  me,  but  I  wished  them  to  base  their  ap- 
peal and  petition  on  the  broad  grounds  of  free- 
dom for  all  the  political  prisoners,  leaving  no 
one  out  who  had  been  sent  to  prison  because  of 
his  opinions  on  a  public  question,  such  as  the 
war.  "When  Mr.  Darrow  left  Atlanta  he  went 
back  to  Washington,  and  had  further  interviews 
with  the  higher  officials  there. 

I  met  Mr.  Gompers  when  he  came  to  the  prison, 
at  the  invitation  of  the  warden,  to  deliver  an  ad- 
dress to  the  convicts  in  the  auditorium  of  the 
penitentiary.  Mr.  Gompers  was  courteously  re- 
ceived by  the  inmates,  and  their  response  to  his 
remarks  was  appreciative  and  generous.  After 
his  prison  address  we  enjoyed  a  brief  visit  in  the 
office  of  the  warden. 


VISITORS   AND  VISITING  97 

Mr.  Hapgood's  visit  was  particularly  pleas- 
ant to  me.  He  was  at  that  time  writing  for  a 
newspaper  syndicate  in  Washington,  and  I  fol- 
lowed his  articles  in  the  Atlanta  newspaper  that 
published  them.  I  understood  that  Mr.  Hapgood 
had  visited  me  so  that  he  might  write  a  series  of 
articles  about  my  case.  After  an  hour's  talk  to- 
gether he  left,  and  I  was  much  impressed  by  his 
kindly  manner,  his  charming  personality  and  his 
sincerity  in  the  issue  that  had  brought  him  to 
Atlanta  prison.  His  articles  appeared  a  few 
weeks  later,  and  I  am  sure  they  had  a  salutary  in- 
fluence in  directing  the  public's  attention  to  the 
fact  that  many  men  and  women  had  suffered  im- 
prisonment because  they  had  stood  ujDon  their 
constitutional  right  to  hold  a  point  of  view  and 
express  it. 

I  had  not  seen  Melville  E.  Stone  for  twenty- 
five  years.  At  that  time  Mr.  Stone  was  editor 
of  Victor  Lawson's  Chicago  Eecord,  and  we  were 
brought  together  through  Eugene  Field,  whose 
close  personal  friendship  it  was  my  privilege  to 
possess.  At  that  time  Mr.  Stone  and  I  under- 
stood each  other  perfectly.  He  was  on  one  side 
of  many  public  questions  affecting  the  interests 
of  the  common  people,  while  I  was  on  the  other. 
Those  are  matters  not  to  be  discussed  here; 
suffice  it  to  say  that  Mr.  Stone  and  I  were  per- 
sonally friendly,  and  on  the  occasion  of  his  visit 
with  me  his  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  he  took  my 
hand  and  told  me  that  his  faith  in  me  as  a  man 


98  WALLS  AND  BABS 

had  never  wavered,  and  that  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  we  were  on  opposite  sides,  he  had  never 
permitted  a  reflection  upon  me  as  a  man  to  re- 
main unchallenged. 

It  had  been  my  pleasure  to  meet  Mr.  Steffens 
many  years  ago.  He  came  to  see  me  once  in 
Boston  during  the  campaign  of  1908  when  I  was 
a  candidate  for  President.  His  visit  to  Atlanta 
occurred  a  few  weeks  before  my  release,  and  he 
told  me  much  about  the  political  and  economic 
conditions  in  Eussia,  where  he  had, spent  con- 
siderable time  investigating  and  obselfving  them. 
Mr.  Steffens  was  also  interesting  himself  in  the 
question  of  amnesty  for  political  prisoners  in  the 
United  States,  and  we  talked  at  some  length  upon 
that  subject. 

The  casual  visitors  who  came  to  Atlanta  Prison 
to  see  the  institution  itself  almost  never  failed  to 
ask  the  guards  to  permit  them  to  see  me.  Many 
of  them  must  have  thought  I  was  some  sort  of 
curiosity,  and  I  was  told  that  not  infrequently 
guards  and  even  trusties  were  offered  small 
sums  of  money  by  these  prison  tourists  if  they 
would  point  me  out  to  them.  In  almost  every 
case  they  were  disappointed,  for  my  quarters 
were  in  the  hospital  to  which  visitors  were  not 
usually  admitted. 

One  of  the  rules  of  the  prison  forbids  a  con- 
vict from  addressing  himself  to  a  person  from 
the  outside  unless  he  is  specially  permitted  so 
to  do.   One  day  I  was  ordered  to  go  to  the  war- 


VISITORS   AND   VISITING  99 

den's  office,  and  as  I  passed  through  the  maiD 
corridor  an  Atlanta  friend  saw  me  and  got  np 
to  greet  me.  I  extended  my  hand  to  him,  when 
suddenly  a  guard  screamed  at  the  person,  seized 
him  roughly  and  threatened  to  eject  him  from  the 
prison.  By  the  same  token,  I  had  also  violated 
a  solemn  rule,  hut  no  punishment  was  inflicted 
for  the  infraction. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

My  1920  Campaign  for  President. 

It  may  or  may  not,  according  to  the  point  of 
view,  be  an  enviable  distinction  to  be  nominated 
for  the  high  office  of  President  of  the  United 
States  while  in  the  garb  of  a  felon  and  serving  a 
term  as  such  in  one  of  its  penitentiaries. 

I  am  reminded  of  an  editorial  paragraph  ap- 
pearing in  one  of  the  eastern  dailies  at  the  time 
of  my  imprisonment  at  Moundsville  which  read 
something  like  this :  *  ^  Debs  started  for  the  White 
House,  but  he  only  got  as  far  as  the  federal 
prison''.  I  was  not  the  least  perturbed  by  this 
comment  for  I  knew  in  advance  that  my  course 
led,  not  to  the  presidential  mansion,  but  through 
the  prison  gates.  I  had  already  been  the  candidate 
of  the  socialist  party  in  four  previous  campaigns 
for  President— 1900,  1904,  1908  and  1912. 

Having  had  almost  a  million  votes  cast  for  me 
in  the  latter  campaign  and  as  many  more  that 
were  not  counted,  and  feeling  that  I  had  been 
more  than  sufficiently  honored,  I  concluded  not 
to  be  a  presidential  candidate  again,  and  in  the 
national  political  contest  of  1916  I  did  not  per- 
mit the  use  of  my  name  in  the  nominations. 
However,  in  the  congressional  convention  of  nay 
district  (the  fifth  Indiana),  which  followed  a  lit- 


MY   1920   CAMPAIGN   FOE  PRESIDENT  101 

tie  later,  dnring  my  absence  on  a  speaking  tour, 
I  was  nnanimoiisly  chosen  as  the  candidate  for 
Congress  and  stood  as  the  nominee  in  that  cam- 
paign, my  supporters  refusing  to  permit  me  to 
withdraw  my  name  from  the  ticket. 

When  the  time  came  for  making  the  nomina- 
tions for  President  in  1920  I  was  serving  my 
sentence  in  Atlanta  prison,  and  in  response  to 
urgent  solicitations  from  the  membership  at  first 
positively  declined  to  be  considered  a  candidate. 
Later,  however,  when  I  was  assured  that  the 
nomination  would  be  made  irrespective  of  my 
views  in  the  matter,  and  that  it  would  be  unani- 
mous, I  yielded  to  the  wishes  of  the  delegates. 
The  nomination  followed  and,  as  predicted,  was 
made  by  acclamation  in  the  convention  held  in 
New  York  City. 

During  the  year  previous  to  the  convention 
many  of  the  party  papers  carried  the  slogan, 
^^From  the  Prison  to  the  White  House '^  and  I 
was  told  by  many  of  my  visitors  and  correspon- 
dents that  I  would  be  the  choice  of  the  rank  and 
file  of  the  party  for  President.  This  was  an 
honor  which  I  had  never  sought;  in  fact,  I  had 
my  own  personal  reasons  for  not  wishing  to  be 
the  standard  bearer,  reasons  which  dated  back  to 
the  time  when  I  was  a  member  of  the  Indiana 
legislature.  I  made  a  resolution  to  myself  that 
I  would  never  again  be  a  candidate  for  a  public 
office,  preferring  to  devote  my  energies  to  tasks 
immediately  identified  with  the  industrial  side  of 


102  WALLS   AND  BAES 

the  labor  movement  The  party  to  which  I  gave 
allegiance  chose  otherwise,  thus  setting  aside  my 
personal  wishes. 

Men  had  been  nominated  for  President  who 
were  bom  in  log  cabins  to  testify  to  their  lowly 
origin,  but  never  before  had  such  a  nomination 
been  conferred  upon  an  imprisoned  convict.  It 
was  indeed  an  unprecedented  distinction  which 
had  been  bestowed  upon  me,  and  the  reader  may 
place  his  own  interpretation  upon  its  significance. 

Next  in  order  was  the  visit  to  the  prison  of  the 
committee  on  notification,  the  department  at 
Washington  having  granted  the  necessary  per- 
mission for  such  a  committee  to  call  upon  me. 
In  due  time  the  committee  arrived,  consisting  of 
both  men  and  women,  and  the  ceremony  occurred 
in  the  warden's  office,  Mr.  Zerbst  and  other  offi- 
cials of  the  institution  being  interested  spectators. 

The  nomination  address  was  in  the  nature  of 
a  most  complimentary  tribute  to  which  I  re- 
sponded in  an  expression  of  my  thanks  and  ap- 
preciation. The  occasion  was  altogether  as  im- 
pressive as  it  was  unique  and  created  a  lively  in- 
terest throughout  the  prison. 

To  have  a  presidential  candidate  in  their  midst 
was  a  thing  the  nearly  three  thousand  prisoners 
had  never  experienced  before  and  they  seemed  to 
feel  a  thrill  of  pride  as  if  they,  too,  shared  in 
whatever  distinction  was  bestowed  upon  me, 
]  which  indeed  they  did,  for  I  can  say  in  all  sin- 
cerity that  there  is  among  men  in  prison  a  fel- 


MY    1920    CAMPAIGN   FOE   PEESIDENT  103 

low-feeling  that  in  some  respects  is  less  selfish 
and  more  refined  and  generous  than  that  which 
commonly  prevails  in  the  outer  world. 

The  representatives  of  the  press  were  in  the 
prison  at  the  time  of  the  notification  ceremonies 
and  gave  good  accounts  to  their  readers  of  the 
very  unusual  proceedings  at  the  prison.  The  film 
photographers  were  also  in  eager  evidence,  as 
is  their  wont,  to  pictorialize  the  event,  and  a  few 
days  later  the  scenes  were  reproduced  on  screens 
in  thousands  of  motion  picture  theaters  through- 
out the  country.  The  warden  permitted  me  to 
be  escorted  by  the  committee  outside  the  prison 
gates  where  informal  conversations  were  held, 
more  pictures  taken,  and  where  a  group  of  At- 
lanta children  presented  me  with  a  bouquet  of 
red  roses  caught  at  the  stems  by  a  splash  of  scar- 
let ribbon.  In  this  instance,  as  in  a  number  of 
others,  Warden  Zerbst  exhibited  toward  me  per- 
sonally a  friendliness  for  which  I  am  grateful  to 
him. 

Never  in  all  of  my  experience  as  a  presidential 
candidate  had  I  been  so  deeply  touched  and  so 
profoundly  impressed  by  the  congratulations  of 
friends  as  I  was  by  those  I  received  that  day  and 
in  the  days  that  followed  from  the  inmates  of 
the  Atlanta  federal  prison.  The  hands,  black 
and  white,  were  extended  to  me  from  the  cells 
and  from  all  directions,  while  faces  beamed  with 
a  warmth  and  sincerity  that  found  expression 
from  eager  lips. 


104  WALLS   AND   BAES 

The  little  speeches  made  by  some  of  these  poor 
broken  brothers  of  mine  to  whom  no  nomination 
had  ever  come,  save  that  issued  by  the  judge  who 
pronounced  their  doom,  voiced  genuine  pride  and 
joy  in  the  honor  which  had  come  to  me,  evincing 
a  beautiful  and  generous  human  spirit  that,  in 
spite  of  its  hardening  and  degrading  conditions, 
the  prison  could  not  extinguish. 

To  be  perfectly  candid,  I  felt  more  highly  hon- 
ored by  these  manifestations  of  my  fellow  con- 
victs, on  account  of  their  obvious  unselfishness, 
their  spontaneous  and  generous  enthusiasm,  than 
any  congratulatory  occasion  I  had  ever  before 
experienced.  Many  were  the  convicts  of  the 
various  hues  and  shades  of  intelligence  that  made 
up  the  prison  population  who  actually  believed 
from  the  enthusiasm  at  the  moment  surrounded 
them,  augmented  by  the  items  appearing  from 
time  to  time  in  the  daily  press  about  me,  that  my 
election  was  at  least  probable,  and  that  with  my  in- 
duction into  the  "White  House  a  new  era  would 
dawn  for  them  and  other  prisoners  confined  in 
penitentiaries  and  jails  in  the  United  States. 

My  fellow  prisoners  were  not  only  much  im- 
pressed by  the  political  delegations  that  came  to 
see  me,  but  they  followed  closely  the  daily  papers 
seeking  for  items  that  might  have  some  reference 
to  me.  When  these  appeared  they  seemed  to 
have  the  effect  of  an  affirmation  of  the  simple 
belief  held  by  many  of  the  prisoners  that  I  was 
due  to  be  inaugurated  President  in  the  March 


MY   1920   CAMPAIGN   FOE  PRESIDENT  105 

following  the  election.  Not  a  few  of  the  more 
naive  convicts  came  to  look  upon  their  liberty 
as  being  restored  to  them,  not  when  their  sen- 
tences would  have  been  completed,  but  when  I 
should  be  placed  in  the  executive  mansion. 

Among  the  colored  prisoners  it  was  current 
that  they  were  to  share  equally  with  the  white 
convicts  in  whatever  beneficial  change  that  was 
to  take  place  under  my  administration. 

One  of  the  popular  comments  heard  in  the 
course  of  the  prison  campaign  was  that  I  was  cer- 
tain to  sweep  every  precinct  in  the  penitentiary, 
and  that  neither  Mr.  Harding  nor  Mr.  Cox,  my 
political  adversaries,  would  receive  a  single 
prison  electoral  vote. 

It  seems,  and  to  my  mind  it  certainly  is,  a 
pathetic  commentary  upon  our  social  life  that  a 
faith  so  simple  and  child-like  as  was  here  mani- 
fested should  have  been  sealed  and  crowned  by 
a  cruel  and  debasing  prison  sentence. 

I  was  amused  by  the  wit  of  a  newspaper  wag 
who  said  at  the  beginning  of  the  campaign  that 
Cox  would  make  his  speeches  from  the  tail  end 
of  a  train,  Harding  would  appeal  for  votes  from 
his  front  porch,  while  I  would  make  my  bid  for 
the  support  of  the  electorate  from  a  front  cell. 
To  this  it  was  added  that  my  political  conferees 
would  have  the  advantage  of  knowing  where  I 
stood,  and  that  they  would  always  find  me  in 
when  they  wanted  to  confer  with  me. 

I  was  certainly  saved  from  one  embarrassment 


106  WALLS   AND   BARS 

to  which  other  presidential  candidates  are  uni- 
formly subjected ;  I  was  not  called  upon  to  prom- 
ise a  postoffice  to  each  of  several  candidates  of 
rival  factions.  Neither  did  the  matter  of  a  presi- 
dential candidate's  political  expenses  cause  me 
any  annoyance,  for  under  the  rules  of  the  prison 
to  which  my  campaign  activities  were  confined,  a 
chap,  even  though  a  nominee  for  the  highest 
office,  caught  with  so  little  as  a  dime  in  his 
pockets  is  ruthlessly  pounced  upon  by  a  guard 
and  the  culprit  haled  before  the  prison  magistrate 
in  the  person  of  the  deputy  warden  and  punished 
as  if  he  had  robbed  a  bank. 

Not  a  penny  is  a  prisoner  permitted  to  have 
in  his  possession,  and  I  wondered  about  the  con- 
sternation there  would  be  among  my  rival  candi- 
dates for  office  in  the  outer  world  if  they  were 
deprived  of  the  use  of  money  at  election  time. 

During  the  campaign  the  attorney  general  per- 
mitted me  to  issue  a  weekly  statement  in  limited 
form  discussing  the  political  issues.  I  wrote 
these  statements  in  my  room  in  the  hospital,  and 
each  week  mailed  them  to  my  home  in  Terre 
Haute  where  they  were  typed  and  sent  to  the 
national  office  of  the  party  in  Chicago  from 
whence  they  were  distributed  to  the  press  asso- 
ciations and  party  newspapers.  In  this  manner 
the  convict  candidate's  messages  were  given  a 
wide  and  ofttimes  sympathetic  readins:. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear,  I  received  but  two 
or  three  uncomplimentary  letters  during  the  en- 


MY    1920   CAMPAIGN   FOR   PRESIDENT  107 

tire  campaign.  The  mail  of  nearly  every  candi- 
date for  an  important  office  is  burdened  during 
his  campaign  with  all  sorts  of  insulting  and 
threatening  letters.  One  of  my  correspondents 
said  that  I  should  be  shot,  and  the  other  wrote 
that  I  was  at  last  where  I  belonged,  and  he  hoped 
I  would  not  leave  there  alive;  he  concluded  with 
the  hope  that  the  warden  would  have  my  naked 
back  lashed  until  it  bled  every  day  I  was  there. 
This  benevolent  writer  also  advised  me  in  the 
same  letter  that  he  had  written  to  the  warden 
to  the  same  effect. 

Of  course  all  these  mercifully-inspired  epistles 
were  from  anonymous  writers  who  declared  their 
implacable  hatred  of  all  things  un-American,  and 
vouchsafed  their  red-blooded  loyalty  to  American 
ideals. 

There  was  no  attempt  made  at  any  time  either 
by  the  prison  officials  or  the  department  at  Wash- 
ington to  restrict  my  little  campaign  messages. 
As  the  weeks  lengthened  into  months  I  became 
more  than  ever  a  curiosity  to  casual  visitors  to 
the  prison,  and  they  employed  every  ruse  and 
subterfuge  with  the  attaches  to  get  a  glimpse  of 
the  man  who  had  converted  a  federal  iDcnitentiary 
into  his  campaign  headquarters. 

Notwithstanding  that  I  was  clothed  in  the  faded 
and  frayed  garb  of  a  felon,  I  felt  aware  of  a  cer- 
tain dignity  that  my  peculiar  position  as  a  candi- 
date imposed,  expressive  as  it  was  of  a  confidence 
that  remained  unshaken  in  the  face  of  all  the  de- 


108  WALLS   AND   BAES 

nial  it  had  encountered.  Certainly  no  candidate 
could  have  been  shown  more  respect  or  treated 
with  greater  courtesy  than  was  I  by  the  prison 
population  and  all  others  with  whom  I  incidentally 
came  into  contact. 

Election  night  is  vividly  recalled  as  a  pleasant 
and  interesting  special  occasion.  Soon  after  the 
supper  hour  I  was  sent  for  and  received  by  the 
deputy  warden  who  conducted  me  to  the  warden's 
office  to  hear  the  returns  that  were  being  received 
by  telephone  and  in  the  form  of  special  mes- 
sages. The  warden  and  his  wife  were  present  as 
were  representatives  of  the  press.  The  bulletins 
came  in  rapidly  and  the  table  was  soon  covered 
with  these  returns. 

Early  in  the  evening  I  conceded  the  election  of 
"Warren  G.  Harding  and  my  own  defeat,  which 
apparently  excited  no  surprise  among  those  in 
the  office  and  beyond  the  walls ;  the  only  surprise, 
if  not  chagrin,  that  was  felt  came  from  the  prison 
cells.  An  interesting  question  arose  while  we  sat 
there  in  the  warden's  office  as  to  a  pardon  to 
myself  in  the  event  of  my  election,  and  we  all 
found  some  mirth  in  debating  it.  I  am  sure  the 
question  did  not  disturb  my  slumber  in  the  nights 
preceding  this  particular  one. 

We  remained  in  the  office  of  the  warden  until 
the  election  of  Harding  was  assured,  when  I  once 
more  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  as  a  defeated 
presidential  candidate.  I  was  not  in  the  least 
downcast  that  I  had  not  been  elected  President 


MY   1920   CAMPAIGN  FOB  PRESIDENT  109 

of  the  United  States.  In  the  next  hour  I  was  in 
dreamland  sailing  the  seven  seas  in  quest  of  new 
worlds  to  conquer. 

The  sincere  regret  expressed  the  following  day 
by  my  prison  mates  that  I  had  not  been  trans- 
ferred from  Atlanta  to  Washington  by  the  Ameri- 
can people  would  have  compensated  me  for  any 
disappointment  I  might  have  felt  over  the  con- 
duct of  the  campaign  and  its  final  results. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

'A  Chkistmas  Eve  Reception. 

There  are  certain  occasions  in  my  prison  ex- 
perience that  are  vividly  preserved  as  beautiful 
pictures.  One  of  these  v^as  the  celebration  of 
Christmas  Eve,  1920,  in  the  basement  of  the 
prison  hospital. 

Permission  had  been  secured  by  the  inmates  of 
the  hospital  from  the  officials  to  hold  a  Christmas 
Eve  communion  and  spread  a  banquet  to  which 
the  prisoners  contributed  the  gifts  that  came 
from  their  families  and  friends.  So  quietly  had 
all  this  been  arranged,  that  I  was  in  blissful 
ignorance  of  it  until  I  was  escorted  to  the  spa- 
cious and  brilliantly  illuminated  basement  where 
I  beheld  with  astonishment  and  delight  an  ex- 
tended table  spread  with  a  banquet  of  delicious 
dishes  that  was  equally  tempting  to  the  eye  and 
palate. 

Every  hospital  inmate  who  had  received  any 
gifts  at  all  contributed  them  to  the  common  lot. 
The  holly-stamped  paper  in  which  the  gifts  had 
been  wrapped  was  carefully  preserved  by  the 
prisoners,  one  of  whom  fashioned  fancy  doilies 
out  of  it  and  spread  them  under  each  plate.  The 
myriad  colored  ribbons  were  used  as  part  of  the 
festoons,  and  from  somewhere  flowers  had  been 


A   CHRISTMAS   EVE   EECEPTION  111 

obtained  for  decorating  the  table.  Each  prisoner 
had  brought  his  own  little  iron  chair  from  his 
room  or  the  wards,  and  when  they  were  all  seated 
they  held  consultation  as  to  who  should  come  to 
my  room,  to  escort  me  to  the  festive  board. 

Every  prisoner  wanted  what  he  considered  was 
that  honor,  and  since  the  dispute  could  be  solved 
in  no  other  way  they  decided  to  hold  nominations 
and  elect  an  escorting  committee  of  two.  It  hap- 
pened that  an  Irishman  and  a  Chinese  were 
chosen.  I  was  sitting  in  my  own  room  when  the 
two  convicts  came  to  my  door  and  told  me  that 
I  was  wanted  in  the  basement.  The  Irishman 
tried  his  best  to  appear  solemn,  but  the  face  of 
the  Mongolian  beamed  with  anticipatory  delight 
over  the  surprise  that  he  knew  would  be  mine  in 
a  few  moments.  Flanked  on  either  side  by  my 
fellow  prisoners,  I  walked  through  the  silent 
corridors  of  the  now  deserted  hospital,  and  down 
the  stairs  to  the  basement,  where  for  the  first 
time  I  realized  the  purpose  of  my  being  sum- 
moned. In  every  eye  there  was  an  expression 
of  delight  and  kindness,  and  if  I  had  never  before 
understood  the  meaning  of  human  happiness  and 
the  radiant  heights  to  which  it  may  ascend,  I  per- 
ceived it  that  night  before  me  in  the  faces  of  my 
fellow  prisoners  who  had  in  this  loving  and  sim- 
ple way  translated  the  thought  of  *^good  will 
among  men'^  into  kindly  deed. 

The  convict  committee  escorted  me  to  the  head 
of  the  table  where  I  was  informed  that  I  was 


112  WALLS  AND   BAKS 

their  guest  of  honor.  Sometimes  there  come  to 
all  of  us  feelings  that  sing  in  the  heart  and  sigh 
for  expression  when  only  our  silence  really  reg- 
isters the  depth  of  our  emotion  and  our  moist 
eyes  suggest  what  the  world  could  never  reveal. 
So  I  cannot  tell  you  of  the  deep  stirrings  within 
me  as  I  looked  down  the  lanes  of  that  burdened 
board  and  beheld  in  the  countenances  of  those 
convicts  a  joyous  unselfishness  that  passes  all 
understanding  in  the  outer  world. 

I  am  sure  my  eyes  never  rested  upon  a  more 
beautiful  and  inviting  feast.  If  I  had  never  be- 
fore forgotten  that  I  was  enclosed  in  prison  walls 
it  certainly  did  not  occur  to  me  during  that  ex- 
traordinary evening  that  I  was  being  held  in 
custody. 

In  all  the  more  than  three  score  years  of  my 
life  there  had  been  but  two  Christmas  eves  that 
I  spent  away  from  home.  It  had  been  an  un- 
written rule  in  our  large  family  to  gather  under 
the  rooftree  of  the  old  home  at  Christmas  time 
and  spend  the  holidays  there.  It  was  always  the 
occasion  for  a  beautiful  family  reunion,  the  mem- 
ory of  which  is  treasured  by  me  and  will  be  ^*  un- 
til it  empties  its  urn  into  forgetfulness.'' 

The  first  was  in  1897  when  I  was  filling  a  series 
of  speaking  engagements  in  Iowa,  and  had  the 
detectives  of  the  railroad  companies  at  my  heels ; 
they  followed  me  from  point  to  point  to  assist 
me  in  my  work  in  the  way  peculiar  to  those  func- 
tionaries.   This  was  due  to  my  former  activities 


A   CHRISTMAS   EVE   RECEPTION  113 

among  railroad  men,  organizing  them  into  the 
American  Eailway  Union  which  had  sponsored 
the  great  strike  of  three  years  before,  resulting, 
so  far  as  I  personally  was  concerned,  in  my  im- 
prisonment in  McHenry  County  Jail,  Illinois,  for 
six  months  for  disregarding  an  injunction  issued 
by  a  federal  court  which  had  held  me  in  contempt. 
Christmas  eve,  1897,  found  me  in  Des  Moines  with- 
out money  to  pay  my  railroad  fare  and  that  ac- 
counts for  my  missing  the  celebration  at  home. 
The  second  occasion  of  my  absence  was  in  1919, 
when  I  was  in  Atlanta  federal  prison. 

I  have  mixed  feelings  as  to  the  compensation 
that  was  awarded  me  in  1920  for  my  inability 
to  be  at  my  own  fireside,  but  I  am  sure  I  shall 
never  forget  the  manner  in  which  my  fellow 
prisoners  exerted  themselves  at  that  prison  ban- 
quet for  my  surprise  and  happiness.  The  scene 
presented  aspects  so  unusual  that  I  felt  myself 
not  only  highly  honored,  but  there  was  a  silent 
and  subtle  appeal  to  my  emotions  that  cannot  be 
expressed  in  words. 

I  had  never  before  been  the  recipient  of 
such  bounty,  nor  from  such  a  source,  nor  more 
graciously  and  tenderly  offered.  Each  had  con- 
tributed his  all  for  the  enjoyment  of  all. 

A  noticeable  incident  that  impressed  me  was 
the  insistence  of  the  prisoners  to  serve  at  the 
tables  instead  of  being  seated  as  guests.  That 
concrete  and  steel-barred  prison  basement  was 
a  temple  of  spiritual  fellowship  in  blessed  re- 


114  WALLS  AND   BARS 

union  that  night.  Seated  around  that  hospitable 
board  we  were  brothers  indeed,  and  I  only  wish 
it  had  been  possible  for  those  who  think  of  in- 
mates of  prison  in  terms  of  crime  and  degeneracy 
to  have  looked  upon  that  gathering  of  convicts 
and  then  have  been  asked  in  what  essential  par- 
ticular they  were  inferior  to  or  different  from 
any  similar  number  of  human  beings  who  were 
celebrating,  in  stately  edifices  dedicated  to  his 
name,  the  natal  day  of  the  Man  who  was  born 
in  a  stable. 

It  may  be  a  fancy,  but  I  somehow  felt  that 
Jesus  Christ  was  in  prison  that  night. 

Some  weeks  before  Christmas  a  case  contain- 
ing 500  copies  of  a  book  entitled,  ^^Debs  and  the 
Poets'',  was  shipped  to  the  prison.  This  book 
was  an  anthology  of  verse  and  comment  collected 
by  Euth  LePrade  and  published  by  Upton  Sin- 
clair at  Pasadena,  California.  It  was  the  desire 
of  the  author  and  publisher  that  I  autograph  the 
books  which  were  to  be  sold  by  them  in  the  inter- 
est of  a  fund  being  raised  to  continue  the  agita- 
tion for  general  amnesty  for  political  prisoners. 
When  the  books  arrived  a  copy  was  scrutinized 
by  Warden  Zerbst  who  decided  that  the  intro- 
duction supplied  by  Upton  Sinclair  was  not  par- 
ticularly complimentary  to  the  prison  idea,  nor 
was  some  of  the  poetry.  Now,  although  prisons 
have  concrete  hides  to  cover  their  guilt,  like  all 
guilty  creatures  they  are  exceedingly  sensitive 
as  to  having  that  guilt  exposed,  so  a  copy  of  the 


A   CHEISTMAS   EVE   EECEPTION  115 

book  in  question  was  sent  to  Attorney  General 
Palmer  who  ruled  there  was  nothing  objection- 
able in  it,  and  that  I  might  be  permitted  to  auto- 
graph the  copies. 

At  that  time  David  Karsner  was  in  Atlanta  as 
the  correspondent  of  a  New  York  newspaper, 
and  he  with  Samuel  M.  Castleton,  a  local  attor- 
ney, who  had  been  personally  friendly  to  me 
while  I  was  in  the  prison  there,  asked  the  war- 
den if  I  might  be  permitted  to  inscribe  the  books 
Christmas  Eve  night.  The  request  was  granted 
and  the  hour  to  begin  was  fixed  at  seven  o'clock. 
After  the  banquet  in  the  prison  hospital  base- 
ment was  over  I  went  to  the  clerk's  office  where 
I  found  Karsner  and  Castleton  awaiting  my  pres- 
ence. With  them  was  David  H.  Clark,  an  At- 
lanta comrade,  who,  I  learned  later,  had  re- 
signed his  position  in  the  post  office  that  night 
so  that  he  might  be  able  to  join  his  friends  in 
the  unusual  visit  with  me.  I  recall  remarking  to 
my  friends  that  my  batteries  were  all  charged, 
as  indeed  they  were,  for  at  the  basement  banquet 
I  had  been  called  upon  to  deliver  an  address  for 
the  occasion.  I  spoke  over  half  an  hour  to  my 
fellow  prisoners  and  I  am  sure  I  was  never  more 
inspired  to  make  an  address  than  I  was  that 
night.  Several  of  the  prisoners  responded  to  my 
remarks  and  I  shall  never  forget  the  homely 
eloquence  that  flowed  from  their  honest  hearts. 

The  books  which  I  was  to  autograph  were  piled 
on  either  side  of  me  at  the  clerk's  desk  and  the 


116  'VV'ALLS   AND   BAES 

work  commenced.  In  the  corridor  outside  a 
dozen  or  more  prisoners  were  assembling  the 
last  of  the  Christmas  packages  for  the  convicts 
and  there  was  an  atmosphere  of  fellowship  that 
pervaded  the  entire  scene.  From  time  to  time 
prisoners  slipped  in  and  out  of  the  room  where 
I  was  at  work  to  drop  a  kindly  word,  and  my 
friends  from  the  outside  world  remarked  upon 
the  amiable  manner  in  which  every  convict  con- 
ducted himself.  Later  that  evening  it  was  sug- 
gested by  one  of  my  visitors  that  maybe  the 
prisoners  assorting  Christmas  boxes  would  like 
to  have  a  soft  drink,  so  the  matter  was  put  up  to 
the  chief  clerk  who  was  superintending  the  work, 
and  he  agreed  to  it.  Thereupon  Karsner  and 
Clark  went  out  of  the  prison  and  down  to  a  little 
store  outside  the  gates  where  they  purchased 
two  dozen  bottles  of  ginger  ale. 

It  happened  that  when  they  asked  to  be  read- 
mitted to  the  penitentiary  Deputy  Warden  Greg- 
ory was  in  the  main  corridor  and  he  came  to  the 
gate  to  inquire  what  was  in  the  box  that  Karsner 
carried. 

He  was  told  of  its  contents  and  that  permit  had 
been  secured  to  bring  it  in  the  prison  for  the  men 
who  were  at  work  over  the  Christmas  gifts.  The 
deputy  warden  felt  that  he  should  have  first  been 
consulted  about  the  matter  and  he  refused  to 
allow  the  refreshment  given  to  the  convicts.  This 
is  but  one  indication  of  how  senseless,  and  need- 
lessly harsh,  are  prison  rules.    Later  the  deputy 


A   CHEISTMAS   EVE   EECEPTION  117 

attempted  to  explain  in  a  somewliat  apologetic 
manner  to  Karsner  that  "who  knows  but  that 
those  bottles  might  contain  'dope'  and  files '\ 
This,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  could  have  re- 
assured himself  on  that  score  in  a  moment  by 
observing  that  every  bottle  was  sealed. 

My  visitors  and  I  kept  at  the  task  of  signing 
the  books,  every  copy  of  which  was  numbered, 
until  midnight.  Then  Karsner,  Castleton  and 
Clark  presented  me  with  their  own  inscribed 
copy  number  65  as  significant  of  the  total  of  my 
years. 

A  nation-wide  holiday  camjoaign  had  been  in- 
augurated for  my  release  so  that  I  might  return 
home  for  Christmas.  It  has  long  been  a  cus- 
tom with  the  i3ardoning  jDower  at  Washington  to 
grant  a  meritorious  prisoner  his  freedom  as  an 
act  of  grace  at  the  season  of  "peace  on  earth  and 
good  will  among  men".  President  Wilson 
granted  the  Christmas  pardon  as  usual,  but  in 
this  instance  it  was  not  in  response  to  the  nu- 
merously signed  petitions  reiDresenting  every  state 
in  the  union  which  had  been  presented  to  him, 
but  the  boon  was  granted  to  an  Indian  who  was 
serving  a  life  sentence  for  murder. 

Attorney  General  Palmer  had  finally  filed  with 
the  President  his  long  delayed  and  expected  re- 
port on  my  case.  Speculation  was  rife  as  to 
whether  the  recommendation  would  be  favorable 
or  otherwise.  The  doubt  was  summarily  dis- 
pelled when  the  report  flashed  over  the  wires 


118  WALLS   AND   BARS 

that  President  Wilson  had  refused  to  grant  the 
petition  circulated  and  forwarded  to  him  in  my 
behalf,  notwithstanding  the  Attorney  GreneraPs 
recommendation  for  my  release. 

When  Mr.  Palmer's  report  was  placed  before 
the  ailing  President  the  latter  had  but  one  word 
to  offer  as  signifying  his  attitude  toward  me. 
Over  the  face  of  the  recommendation  he  scrawled, 
^'DENIED". 

I  have  been  a  trifle  more  than  casually  inter- 
ested in  the  reason  that  prompted  Mr.  Wilson  to 
arrive  at  that  state  of  mind  which  is  furnished 
by  his  former  private  secretary,  Joseph  P.  Tu- 
multy who,  in  his  book,  ^^Woodrow  Wilson  as  I 
Knew  Him'',  sets  down  this  record  of  the  Presi- 
dent's comment  in  my  case: 

^ '  One  of  the  things  to  which  he  paid  particular 
attention  at  this  time,  the  last  days  of  his  rule, 
was  the  matter  of  the  pardon  of  Eugene  V.  Debs. 
The  day  that  the  recommendation  arrived  at  the 
White  House  he  looked  it  over  and  examined  it 
carefully  and  said: 

**  *I  will  never  consent  to  the  pardon  of  this 
man.  I  know  that  in  certain  quarters  of  the  coun- 
try there  is  a  popular  demand  for  the  pardon  of 
Debs,  but  it  shall  never  be  accomplished  with 
my  consent.  Were  I  to  consent  to  it,  I  should 
never  be  able  to  look  into  the  faces  of  the  moth- 
ers of  this  country  who  sent  their  boys  to  the 
other  side.  While  the  flower  of  American  youth 
was  pouring  out  its  blood  to  vindicate  the  cause 


A    CHRISTMAS   EVE   EECEPTION  119 

of  civilization,  tMs  man  Debs  stood  behind  the 
lines,  sniping,  attacking  and  denouncing  them. 
Before  the  war  he  had  a  perfect  right  to  exercise 
his  freedom  of  speech  and  to  express  his  own 
opinion,  but  after  the  Congress  of  the  United 
States  declared  war  silence  on  his  part  would 
have  been  the  proper  course  to  pursue. 

*'  ^  I  know  there  will  be  a  great  deal  of  de- 
nunciation of  me  for  refusing  this  pardon.  They 
will  say  I  am  cold-blooded  and  indifferent,  but 
it  will  make  no  impression  on  me.  This  man  was 
a  traitor  to  his  country,  and  he  will  never  be 
pardoned  during  my  administration'  ". 

Personally  I  have  no  fault  to  find,  nor  any 
criticism  to  level  at  President  Wilson  for  what 
he  considered  to  be  his  proper  course.  But  in- 
terest is  quite  naturally  aroused  when  we  come 
upon  an  expression  such  as  the  following  from 
Mr.  Wilson: 

**I  have  no  fault  to  find,  Tumulty,  with  the  men 
who  disagree  with  me,  and  I  ought  not  to  pena- 
lize them  when  they  give  honest  expression  to 
what  they  believe  are  honest  opinions''. 

I  have  nothing  but  pity  and  compassion  for  a 
man,  even  though  he  be  President  of  the  United 
States,  who  feels  himself  so  unutterably  lonely 
as  to  be  impelled  to  give  voice  to  such  a  sad  senti- 
ment as  the  following: 

**It  is  no  compliment  to  have  it  said  that  I  am 
only  a  highly  developed  intellectual  machine. 
G-ood  God!    Is  there  no  more  to  me  than  that? 


120  WALLS  AND   BARS 

Well,  I  want  the  people  to  love  me,  but  I  sup- 
pose they  never  will.'' 

Immediately  following  the  action  of  Mr.  Wil- 
son representatives  of  the  press  appeared  at  the 
prison  for  an  interview,  but  I  declined  to  com- 
ment on  the  executive's  action.  Some  days  later 
I  was  visited  by  two  friends,  one  of  whom  was 
an  Atlanta  reporter,  and  during  the  conversation 
that  followed  I  expressed  my  opinion  of  the 
President's  action.  In  so  doing  I  was  entirely 
within  my  rights  under  the  rules  of  the  prison. 

The  report  of  my  comment  was  published  the 
following  day  and  appears  to  have  displeased  the 
President,  for  immediately  afterward  an  order 
was  issued  depriving  me  of  all  writing  and  vis- 
iting privileges  and  placing  me  incommunicado 
for  an  indefinite  period.  I  was  told  that  this 
measure  had  been  taken  by  order  of  the  Presi- 
dent himself  because  my  observations  had  vexed 
him  and  he  wanted  no  more  of  them. 

This  action  created  a  sensation  in  the  prison 
and  was  flashed  broadcast  over  the  country.  The 
reaction  that  followed  was  swift  and  emphatic. 
Popular  resentment  was  far  more  widespread 
than  that  which  attended  my  incarceration. 
Thousands  of  people  who  were  not  in  agreement 
with  me  at  all  felt  that  my  imprisonment  was 
sufficient  without  depriving  me  of  the  limited 
rights  that  remained  to  me  as  a  prisoner,  and 
joined  in  the  swelling  demand  that  the  order 
placing  me  incommunicado  be  revoked. 


A   CHKISTMAS   EVE   EECEPTION  121 

Public  men  of  prominence  and  some  newspa- 
pers of  influence  joined  in  the  protest.  So  in- 
sistent became  the  demand  for  the  restoration 
of  my  prison  privileges  that  after  a  period  of  al- 
most three  weeks,  during  which  my  family  and 
friends  were  permitted  neither  to  see  nor  hear 
from  me,  the  order  was  partially,  and  doubtless 
grudgingly  revoked  on  the  day  before  Mr.  Wil- 
son's retirement  from  office;  but  I  was  never 
again  permitted  to  see  a  newspaper  man  or  any 
one  who  was  in  any  way  connected  with  the  press. 

It  was  the  general  opinion  about  the  prison 
that  the  revocation  was  deferred  until  the  Presi- 
dent was  about  to  leave  office  and  that  action  was 
taken  then  only  because  my  limited  privileges 
would  almost  certainly  be  restored  by  President 
Harding,  The  effect  of  Mr.  Wilson's  order  of 
revocation  increased  the  desire  and  insistence  of 
newspaper  men  to  see  me  and  obtain  a  further 
expression  of  my  views  which  the  warden  spared 
me  under  the  iron-clad  special  rule  that  forbade 
my  seeing,  much  less  being  interviewed,  by  re- 
porters. The  warden  was  kept  busy  enforcing 
the  rule  and  a  sharp  lookout  was  kept  to  prevent 
a  possible  newspaper  man  from  satisfying  the 
public  curiosity  as  to  what  I  had  to  say  about  not 
being  permitted  to  say  anything. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Leaving  the  Peison. 

The  spontaneous  and  sensational  demonstra- 
tion that  occurred  upon  my  leaving  the  prison  at 
Atlanta  will  abide  with  me  vividly  to  the  last 
hour  of  my  life.  The  startling,  thrilling,  dra- 
matic and  deeply  touching  scene  of  that  strange 
leave-taking  is  etched  into  my  very  soul.  It  was 
Christmas  day.  The  definite  order  for  my  re- 
lease had  come  at  last  after  weeks  and  months 
of  baseless  rumors.  The  prison  was  tense  with 
excitement.  In  cells  and  corridors,  in  the  duck 
mill,  in  the  mess  room,  the  stockade,  everywhere 
it  was  the  one  topic  of  conversation  and  com- 
ment. The  very  atmosphere  seemed  charged  with 
some  mysterious  element,  some  dynamic  force 
about  to  break  forth  to  shake  that  formidable 
pile  to  its  foundations. 

The  twenty-three  hundred  corraled  convicts, 
so-called,  of  all  colors,  creeds  and  conditions, 
gathered  there  from  all  quarters,  seemed  in  that 
pregnant,  pulsing  hour  to  typify  with  pathetic 
appeal  and  dramatic  impressiveness,  the  unity  of 
mankind,  and  the  common  brotherhood  of  the 
race. 

For  nearly  three  years  I  had  been  the  daily 
associate  and  companion  of  these  tortured  souls 


LEAVING   THE  PBISON  123 

' — these  imprisoned  victims  of  a  cruel  and  re- 
lentless fate.  I  had  shared  with  them  on  equal 
terms  in  all  things  and  they  knew  it  and  loved 
me  as  I  loved  them.  They  were  my  friends  not 
only,  but  my  brothers  and  realized  and  rejoiced 
in  our  mutual  and  intimate  relations.  In  a 
thousand  ways,  by  stealth  when  necessary,  and 
by  other  means  when  possible,  they  made  mani- 
fest their  confidence  and  their  loyalty,  and  com- 
ing from  that  pathetic  source,  from  hearts  that 
once  beat  high  with  hope  but  many  of  which  had 
long  been  dead  to  the  thrill  of  enthusiasm  and 
the  joy  of  life,  this  tender,  loving  tribute  touched 
me  to  the  heart  and  had  for  me  a  meaning  too 
deep  and  overmastering  to  be  expressed  in  words. 

The  hour  had  come  when  we  must  part.  Great 
was  its  rejoicing  over  my  release,  but  the  part- 
ing and  the  uncertainty  of  ever  meeting  again 
struck  their  hearts  and  mine  with  sorrow  and 
regret. 

As  the  noon  hour  approached  the  Warden  and 
Deputy  Warden  called  to  inform  me  that  the 
time  had  come  for  me  to  take  my  leave.  My 
brother  had  arrived  to  join  me  as  I  left  the 
prison  for  the  homeward  journey.  The  last  in- 
mate I  clasped  hands  with  was  a  Negro  serving 
a  life  sentence.  As  the  poor  fellow  stood  before 
me  sobbing  I  literally  saw  the  prison  in  tears. 

For  a  moment  I  was  rooted  to  the  spot  and 
shaken  with  emotion.    I  felt  as  if  I  was  deserting 


124  WALLS  AND   BARS 

my  friends  and  a  sense  of  guilt  gripped  my  con- 
science. 

I  could  see  their  anxious  eyes  peering  at  me 
from  all  directions,  and  how  could  I  turn  my  back 
on  them  and  leave  them  there !  They  wanted  me 
to  go,  to  join  my  family,  to  have  my  liberty,  while 
the  impulse  seized  me  to  stay  with  them  until  we 
could  walk  out  of  the  barred  cells  together  into 
the  sunlight  of  the  outer  world. 

It  was  a  strange,  sad,  mystifying  experience. 
As  I  pen  these  lines  I  live  over  again  those 
solemn,  heart-gripping  moments.  The  pathetic 
smiles  on  the  pallid  faces  that  pressed  so  hard 
against  the  relentless  bars  of  that  living  tomb 
will  haunt  me  to  my  dying  day. 

What  would  I  not  have  given  to  fling  those 
gates  of  hell  wide  open  and  give  to  every  soul 
therein  his  life  and  freedom! 

The  grim  guard  simply  opened  the  steel  door 
in  front  at  a  signal  from  the  Warden. 

The  portals  of  the  prison  were  soon  left  be- 
hind. At  the  edge  of  the  reservation  an  auto- 
mobile stood  in  readiness  to  whirl  me  to  the 
depot.  Flanked  by  the  Warden  and  Deputy,  who 
treated  me  with  perfect  courtesy,  I  was  soon  to 
greet  my  eager  long-waiting  friends  and  com- 
rades. 

Midway  in  the  reservation,  between  the  prison 
entrance  and  the  street,  we  were  halted  by  what 
seemed  a  rumbling  of  the  earth  as  if  shaken  by 
some  violent  explosion.    It  was  a  roar  of  voices — 


Cr  THE 
JWlVERSrfi   OF  ILllNCIf 


Q 


Hg 

o 

MO 

D3 

og 

Sh 

^M 
.M 


Oia 


LEAVING   THE   PRISON  125 

the  hoarse  voices  of  a  caged  humaii  host  that  had 
forgotten  how  to  cheer  and  gave  vent  to  their 
long  pent-up  emotions  in  thunder  volleys  I  never 
heard  before  and  never  shall  again,  for  that  over- 
whelming, bewildering  scene,  without  a  parallel 
in  prison  history,  will  never  be  re-enacted  in  my 
life. 

The  demonstration  was  spontaneous  as  it  was 
startling  and  spectacular.  No  one  could  have 
planned  or  sponsored  the  sensational  outburst. 
It  all  happened  in  a  twinkling  and  gave  the  offi- 
cials and  guards  a  surprise  that  struck  them 
dumb.  They  stood  staring  and  speechless  as  they 
beheld  the  wild  demonstration  of  the  mob  of  con- 
victs who  but  a  moment  before  were  the  silent 
and  submissive  slaves  of  a  brutal  prison  regime. 

Feeling  themselves  free  for  the  moment  at 
least  they  let  loose  again  and  again  in  roars  of 
farewell  salutation.  Prison  rules,  hard  and  for- 
bidding, as  if  by  magic,  fled  the  scene,  while  grim 
guards,  the  pitiless  terror  and  torment  of  the 
convicts,  looked  on  paralyzed  and  speechless  with 
amazement. 

Not  a  word  passed  between  the  Warden,  the 
Deputy  Warden  and  myself  as  we  stood  rooted 
where  we  had  been  halted  by  the  first  outburst 
in  the  prison.  We  had  wheeled  about  as  one,  and 
there  we  stood,  mute  witnesses  to  a  scene  of  such 
tragic  human  appeal  as  would  have  moved  a 
heart  of  stone. 

My  own  heart  almost  ceased  to  beat.     I  felt 


126  WALLS  AND   BAKS 

myself  overwhelmed  with  painful  and  saddening 
emotions.  The  impulse  again  seized  me  to  turn 
back.  I  had  no  right  to  leave.  Those  tearful, 
haunting  faces,  pressing  against  the  barred 
prison  windows — how  they  appealed  to  me — and 
accused  me! 

But  I  had  to  go.  As  I  stepped  into  the  waiting 
car  and  waved  my  last  farewell  another  mighty 
shout  was  heard.  And  then  another  and  another 
and  still  another,  until  far,  far  up  the  winding 
road  and  far  away  from  the  terrible  prison,  the 
last  faint  echo  of  the  convict-host  that  wept  as 
it  cheered,  died  away  in  the  distance, 


CHAPTER  X. 

General  Prison  Conditions. 

During  the  nearly  three  years  that  I  was  in 
Atlanta  Federal  Prison  a  number  of  convicts 
spoke  to  me  from  time  to  time  of  their  desire  and 
intention  to  escape  from  the  prison.  I  invariably 
and  emphatically  advised  them  against  it,  know- 
ing as  I  did,  what  lay  in  store  for  them  as  the 
fruit  of  such  rashness.  I  also  ad^dsed  the  men  to 
keep  within  the  rules  and  conduct  themselves  as 
decently  as  possible  in  the  interest  of  their  own 
protection  and  well-being  against  the  cruel 
prison  regime  in  general  and  the  brutality  ot 
some  of  the  guards  in  jDarticular. 

It  should  be  conceded  here  that  prison  condi- 
tions, generally  speaking,  are  today  far  better 
than  they  were  at  any  time  before  in  history. 
The  truth  of  this  is  more  apparent  when  we  con- 
sider the  state  of  the  prison  and  its  inmates  in 
this  country  a  century  and  more  ago.  To  realize 
what  a  foul  and  hideous  institution  the  prison 
was  at  that  time  one  need  only  read  the  pages  of 
McMasters'  ''History  of  the  United  States'' 
dealing  with  prison  life  during  the  colonial 
period. 

At  that  time  men  were  still  imprisoned  for 
debt,  and  the  prison  sometimes  consisted  of  an 


128  WALLS  AND   BAES 

abandoned  mine,  a  pest  hole  in  which  men  and 
women  were  confined  and  in  which  they  literally 
rotted  away  in  filth  and  loathsomeness.  Capital 
punishment  would  have  been  more  merciful  than 
the  unspeakable  torture  visited  upon  the  unfor- 
tunate poor  who  were  thrown  into  these  black 
holes  and  doomed  to  slow  and  shocking  death  for 
the  crime  of  being  poor  and  unable  to  pay  some 
small  debt. 

In  the  progress  of  society,  the  prison  has  in 
the  very  nature  of  things  undergone  some  im- 
provement, but  there  are  vast  stretches  yet  to  be 
covered  before  the  prison  becomes,  if  it  ever 
does,  an  institution  for  the  reclamation  and  re- 
habilitation of  erring  and  unfortunate  men  and 
women. 

The  general  public  knows  practically  nothing 
about  the  prison  and  appears  to  be  little  con- 
cerned about  how  it  is  managed  and  how  prison- 
ers are  treated.  Not  until  the  average  man  finds 
himself  behind  steel  bars  does  he  realize  how  in- 
different he  has  been  to  a  problem  in  which  he 
should  have  felt  himself  vitally  concerned. 

As  a  rule,  prisons  are  under  the  control  of 
politicians  to  whom  the  welfare  of  its  inmates, 
and  the  welfare  of  society  as  it  is  affected  by 
them,  is  but  a  secondary  consideration,  if,  indeed, 
that  question  really  engages  their  attention  at  all. 
The  wardenship  of  a  federal  or  a  state  prison 
is,  in  my  opinion,  of  more  importance  to  society 
than  the  presidency  of  a  college.     The  latter  is 


GENERAL   PRISON    CONDITIONS  129 

chosen  with  at  least  some  reference  to  his  chac- 
acter  and  his  qualifications  for  the  position, 
whereas  the  warden  is  usually  awarded  his  office 
in  return  for  his  political  services  irrespective  of 
his  fitness  to  hold  a  position  that  has  to  do  with 
the  welfare  of  human  beings. 

The  president  of  a  college  has  supervision  of 
an  institution  in  which  young  and  normal  people 
are  dealt  with,  and  who  readily  understand  and 
embrace  the  opportunity  afforded  them  to  secure 
educational  advantages  to  fit  them  for  the  strug- 
gle of  life.  The  warden  of  a  prison,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  in  charge  of  and  has  almost  absolute 
power  over  the  life  and  destiny  of  thousands  of 
human  beings,  some  of  whom  are  subnormal, 
most  of  whom  have,  for  the  time  at  least,  been 
broken  and  beaten  in  the  battle  of  life,  and  all  of 
whom  are  in  need  of  such  humane  and  intelligent 
understanding  and  treatment  as  is  necessary  to 
retrieve  their  lost  character  and  standing,  rein- 
vest them  with  self-respect  and  restore  them  to 
society  fitted  for  useful  service  to  themselves  and 
their  fellowmen. 

But  how  many  are  there  who  take  this  view 
of  the  importance  of  the  character  and  the  fit- 
ness of  prison  officials,  and  of  the  function  and 
purpose  for  which  the  prison  is  maintained? 
When  it  is  taken  into  account  that  in  the  United 
States  several  hundred  thousand  men,  women  and 
children  pass  through  our  prisons  annually  and 
are  influenced  for  better  or  for  evil  by  their  ex- 


130  WALLS  AND   BAKS 

periences  in  such  institutions,  it  should  appear 
apparent  to  even  the  most  casual  observer  that 
the  prison  problem  is  one  of  the  most  vital  con- 
cern to  the  people,  and  that  the  prison  as  an  in- 
stitution should  be  maintained  with  jealous  care 
as  to  the  character  of  the  officials  who  are  to 
preside  over  it,  and  as  to  the  moral  and  physical 
treatment  of  its  inmates. 

If  the  people  would  but  analyze  the  human 
equation  of  a  prison  they  might  better  account 
for  the  crimes  that  are  visited  upon  them  in 
cities,  towns  and  hamlets,  ofttimes  by  men  who 
graduated  with  an  education  and  equipment  for 
just  that  sort  of  retributive  service  from  some 
penal  institution. 

There  was  a  time  not  long  ago  when  prison 
guards  were  armed  with  deadly  weapons,  when 
convicts  kept  the  lockstep  in  hideous  stripes,  and 
were  forbidden  to  speak  or  even  look  at  one  an- 
other. Most  prisons  have  outgrown  these  abomi- 
nations because  it  was  realized  that  under  their 
brutal  and  degrading  influence  men  were  turned 
into  sodden  beasts  and  subsequently  settled  their 
account  with  society  upon  the  basis  of  the  depth 
to  which  prison  barbarity  had  sunk  them. 

Prison  guards  at  Atlanta  and  many  other  peni- 
tentiaries have  been  divested  of  their  deadly 
weapons,  and  are  no  longer  permitted  to  bear 
them.  They  now  carry  clubs.  In  the  march  of 
prison  progress  we  have  passed  from  the  gun  to 
the  club.     I  have  reference  here  to  the  guards 


GENERAL  PEISON   CONDITIONS  131 

within  and  not  those  who  surmount  the  walls, 
for  the  latter  in  their  watchtowers  are  still  armed 
with  rifles  and  under  orders  to  shoot  to  kill  the 
inmate  who  may  try  to  escape. 

I  must  digress  here  a  moment  to  say  a  word 
ahout  the  prisoner  who  attempts  to  escape.  The 
very  moment  the  ** count",  which  is  taken  several 
times  a  day,  tells  of  his  escape,  a  siren,  known 
as  the  ^^ escape  whistle'^,  is  blown  and  continues 
to  screech  at  intervals  for  a  considerable  time. 
This  is  the  signal  for  the  farmers  in  the  sur- 
rounding vicinity  to  rush  eagerly  for  their  shot- 
guns and  rifles  and  join  in  the  mad  man-hunt  in 
which  a  prize  is  awarded  to  the  lucky  one  who 
stalks  the  quarry.  Fifty  dollars,  dead  or  alive, 
is  the  reward  paid  for  the  capture  of  the  escap- 
ing convict,  and  I  have  been  told  that  those  who 
participate  in  it  find  it  more  exciting  than  a  fox 
chase. 

I  shall  not  stop  to  comment  here  about  my  per- 
sonal views  as  to  the  elevating  influence  of 
sportmanship  of  this  nature.  It  is  nothing  less 
than  folly,  and  ofttimes  suicidal,  for  a  prisoner  to 
attempt  to  escape,  whatever  the  temptation  may 
be,  for  it  is  next  to  impossible  for  him  to  make 
his  way  through  the  lines.  If  he  should  yield  to 
the  natural  impulse  to  break  the  bonds  that  hold 
him  in  captivity  and  is  recaptured  he  must  pay 
the  severest  penalty  for  his  ill-advised  attempt. 

The  guns  on  the  walls  that  surround  the  prison 
accurately,  though  unwittingly,    index    the  true 


132  WALLS  AND   BAES 

character  of  the  penitentiary  in  our  day.  It  is 
a  killing  institution  in  a  moral  as  well  as  in  a 
physical  sense.  It  is  designed  to  break  men  and 
not  to  make  them.  If  they  are  partly  undone 
before  they  go  to  prison  that  institution  will 
complete  the  wrecking  process.  The  many  ex- 
pressions of  bitterness,  hatred  and  revenge  I 
heard  from  the  lips  of  departing  prisoners  who 
had  served  their  sentences,  left  no  doubt  in  my 
mind  as  to  the  effect  of  prison  life  upon  its  vic- 
tims. 

Ever  since  leaving  the  prison  I  have  been 
haunted  by  those  guns  on  the  walls,  and  those 
clubs  in  the  hands  of  guards  within  the  walls. 
Neither  the  guns  nor  the  clubs  should  be  there. 
To  the  extent  that  they  serve  at  all  it  is  in  a 
brutalizing  way  which  tends  to  promote  rather 
than  restrain  attempts  to  escape,  and  causes 
lesser  infractions  of  the  prison  discipline. 

The  gun  and  the  club  are  the  signs  and  sym- 
bols of  the  prison  institution  and  they  proclaim 
its  cruel  function  to  the  world. 

In  one  of  my  last  interviews  with  Warden 
Dyche  before  leaving  Atlanta  I  took  occasion  to 
relate  to  him  what  I  had  seen  of  club  rule  in 
the  prison  and  why  I  felt  that  the  club  should 
follow  the  gun  out  of  prison.  I  told  him  that 
only  men  should  be  allowed  to  serve  as  guards 
who  could  control  the  prisoners  in  their  charge 
through  respect  for  their  character  instead  of 
through  fear  for  the  clubs  they  carried.    A  man 


GENEKAL   PBISON    CONDITIONS  133 

who  can  command  tlie  respect  of  other  men  only 
because  he  holds  a  club  in  his  hand  is  totally 
unfit  to  be  in  any  position  of  authority  in  the 
outside  world,  much  less  so  in  a  prison. 

After  associating  freely  with  those  convicts, 
day  in  and  day  out,  I  knew  beyond  any  question 
of  doubt  that  they  could  be  kept  in  far  better 
order,  that  their  deportment  would  be  improved, 
and  the  morale  of  the  prison  made  higher  with- 
out the  club  to  remind  them  that  they  were  under 
its  rule  and  were  subject  at  any  time  to  its  use 
in  regulating  their  conduct. 

One  day  we  were  marching  back  into  prison 
after  being  out  in  the  yard.  A  few  feet  in  ad- 
vance of  me  an  undersized  and  emaciated  con- 
vict was  shuffling  along  in  the  line.  It  was  rather 
warm  and  his  jumper  was  open  at  his  neck.  This 
was  contrary  to  the  rule,  and  a  guard  standing 
by  gave  him  a  vigorous  punch  with  his  club  that 
doubled  up  the  prisoner  in  pain,  the  guard  yell- 
ing above  the  shriek  of  his  victim,  ^*  Button  up 
there!''  It  was  with  difficulty  that  I  restrained 
my  own  feelings.  I  did  not  report  the  guard  for 
the  reason  that  I  had  made  up  my  mind  from  the 
beginning  of  my  sentence  to  make  no  individual 
complaints  while  I  was  within  the  walls,  having 
concluded  it  would  be  better  policy  to  accept  the 
situation  as  it  was,  and  bide  my  time  until  I 
should  be  free  to  register  my  opposition  to  the 
whole  prison  system. 

Another    personal    experience    with    a    brutal 


134  WALLS   AND   BAKS 

prison  guard  is  recalled.  It  was  on  a  Sunday 
morning  in  the  prison  chapel  where  I  had  gone 
to  join  the  other  inmates  in  attending  devotional 
exercises.  At  an  appointed  hour  the  prisoners 
march  into  the  chapel  which  is  on  an  upper  floor 
of  one  of  the  main  buildings.  The  inner  blinds 
were  partly  closed  and  the  room  was  rather  dark. 
As  we  filed  in,  I  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  end 
of  a  row,  not  knowing  until  the  men  in  advance 
of  me  were  seated  if  I  was  to  occupy  that  row 
or  the  one  behind  it.  In  that  moment  of  innocent 
pause  I  excited  the  wrath  of  a  guard  who  was 
standing  by  swinging  his  club.  I  do  not  know 
if  he  knew  me,  nor  does  it  matter.  I  only  know 
that  he  howled  loud  enough  to  be  heard  a  block 
away,  *  ^  Sit  down  there ! ' ' 

I  felt  that  it  was  the  club  rather  than  the  brute 
in  the  man  that  had  proclaimed  its  authority. 
I  did  not  resent  the  outrage,  for  I  never  per- 
mitted acts  of  that  kind  to  insult  me,  or  to  dis- 
turb my  equanimity,  which  I  managed  to  main- 
tain throughout  my  nearly  three  years  in  At- 
lanta prison,  as  a  convict  of  the  United  States 
Government  because  I  delivered  a  speech  during 
the  war  expounding  the  cause  of  universal  peace 
on  earth  and  good  will  among  men. 

Hundreds  of  stories  of  the  experiences  of  oth- 
ers along  similar  lines  reached  me  whenever  the 
inmates  had  a  chance  to  tell  me  of  their  troubles, 
and  what  they  thought  of  the  guards,  the  clubs, 
the  rules,  and  the  prison  in  general. 


GENEEAL   PEISON    CONDITIOKS  135 

The  rules  of  the  average  prison  are  evidently 
framed  by  men  who  have  but  a  superficial  knowl- 
edge of  the  prison,  and  but  vague  and  indefinite 
ideas  of  the  way  it  should  be  managed  for  the 
good  of  its  inmates  and  society.  The  one  dom- 
inating purpose  of  these  rules  is  repressive  and 
the  stupidity  in  framing  them  is  crowned  with 
the  statement  that  they  are  expected  to  be 
** cheerfully  obeyed''.  No  prison  rule  was  ever 
cheerfully  obeyed,  and  no  work  done  under  such 
rules  as  prevail  was  ever  cheerfully  accomplished. 

On  the  contrary,  the  work  that  a  man  does 
under  the  club  of  another  is  grudgingly  and  sul- 
lenly done.  There  is  no  joy  in  a  prison  task. 
Work  behind  prison  walls  is  slavish  in  its  very 
nature  and  is  done  only  under  protest.  No  in- 
telligent attempt  has  yet  been  made  to  organize 
a  prison  on  a  scientific  and  humane  basis  to 
achieve  the  best  possible  results  under  the  best 
possible  conditions. 

The  very  walls  of  the  prison  buildings  betray 
the  convict  labor  that  reared  them.  The  bricks 
in  their  lack  of  proper  laying  and  the  irregular 
spaces  that  lie  between  them  all  denote  a  kind  of 
protest  against  the  conditions  under  which  work 
is  done  while  guards  with  clubs  in  their  hands 
stand  by  and  watch. 

Every  prison  is  infested  with  that  lowest  of 
mortal  creatures — the  stool  pigeon.  In  prison 
parlance  he  is  known  as  ^Hhe  rat".  The  stool 
pigeon  seems  to  be  a  necessary  part  of  a  prison 


136  WALLS   AND   BAES 

under  club  rule.  Human  beings  ruled  by  brute 
force  resent  and  resist  and  properly  so,  at  every 
opportunity,  and  they  must  be  spied  upon  and 
watched  and  betrayed  by  their  own  fellow  pris- 
oners in  order  to  be  kept  in  subjection. 

The  stool  pigeon  is  the  silent  ally  of  the  guard. 
He  noses  around  to  see  and  hear  what  he  can 
that  he  may  report  what  he  considers  to  be  to 
his  advantage,  and  what  may  cause  those  spied 
upon  serious  trouble.  The  stool  pigeon  finds  his 
reward  in  immunity  from  punishment  and  in  pro- 
moting his  chances  for  the  favorable  considera- 
tion of  his  application  for  pardon,  or  parole,  or 
commutation.  This  particular  subject  was  the 
source  of  frequent  comment  among  the  prisoners 
during  my  term. 

The  stool  pigeon  and  his  encouragement  in  the 
nefarious  part  he  plays  is  in  itself  a  reproach  to, 
and  an  indictment  of,  prison  management.  Not 
for  one  moment  should  such  a  perverted  creature 
be  permitted  to  function  in  a  prison.  The  service 
he  is  permitted  to  render  betrays  a  condition 
which  condemns  the  prison  by  the  very  means  it 
employs  as  a  low  and  demoralizing  institution. 

Chief  among  the  features  of  the  prison  which 
mark  it  as  an  inhuman  institution  is  the  mad- 
dening monotony  of  the  daily  routine.  The  same 
dull  and  deadening  program  is  set  for  each  day, 
and  no  effort  is  made  to  relieve  it  by  a  change  of 
any  kind.  Almost  everything  is  done  in  a  hap- 
hazard way.     Prisoners  are  placed  in  positions 


GENERAL.  PRISON    CONDITIONS  137 

for  which  they  are  unfitted,  and  assigned  to  tasks 
repugnant  to  their  natures. 

It  is  this  daily  and  continuous  monotony  that 
dulls  the  brain  of  the  prisoner,  saps  his  initiative, 
very  often  in  his  youth,  undermines  his  health, 
and  lays  the  foundation  for  his  physical  and  men- 
tal deterioration  and  final  ruin. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Poverty  Populates  the  Prison. 

When  we  come  to  make  an  intelligent  study  of 
the  prison  at  first  hand,  which  can  only  be  made 
by  one  who  has  had  actual  contact  with  convicts 
and  who  himself  has  suffered  under  the  brutal 
regime  that  holds  sway  in  every  penal  institution, 
and  arrive  at  a  final  analysis  of  our  study,  we 
are  bound  to  conclude  that  after  all  it  is  not  so 
much  crime  in  its  general  sense  that  is  penalized, 
but  that  it  is  poverty  which  is  punished,  and 
which  lies  at  the  bottom  of  most  crime  perpe- 
trated in  the  present  day. 

In  a  word,  poverty  is  the  crime,  penalized  by 
society  which  is  responsible  for  the  crime  it 
penalizes.  Take  a  census  of  the  average  prison 
and  you  will  find  that  a  large  majority  of  people 
are  there  not  so  much  because  of  the  particular 
crime  they  are  alleged  to  have  committed,  but 
for  the  reason  that  they  are  poor  and  either 
lacked  the  money  to  engage  the  services  of  first 
class  and  influential  lawyers,  or  because  they 
lacked  the  means  through  which  they  might  have 
been  able  to  put  off  the  day  of  final  conviction  and 
sentence  by  postponements,  continuances  and 
other  delays,  artifices  and  subterfuges,  in  the 
handling  of  which  high  grade  lawyers  are  skilled 


POVERTY  POPUIATES  THE  PEISON       139 

adepts.  A  poor  man  cannot  afford  to  pay  fees 
to  attorneys  who  often  use  their  offices  to  dis- 
pose of  witnesses  whose  testimony  might  be 
damaging  to  the  cases  of  their  clients.  The  poor 
man  caught  in  the  meshes  of  the  law  must  run 
his  chances,  whatever  they  are,  and  take  the  con- 
sequences, whatever  they  may  be. 

It  is  too  obvious  to  require  special  stress  upon 
the  point  that  there  are  a  thousand  ways  in  which 
the  man  with  money  who  is  charged  with  crime 
may  escape  at  least  the  prison  penalty  from  the 
moment  that  his  bail  money  keeps  him  out  of 
jail  and  through  all  the  myriad  technicalities  his 
purse  will  permit  him  to  take  advantage  of ;  some 
of  these  technicalities  not  infrequently  have  ref- 
erence to  the  personnel  of  the  jury  that  will  try 
his  case,  and  other  phases  of  the  trial  which  can, 
by  the  use  and  influence  of  money,  be  made  to 
serve  to  the  advantage  of  the  man  who  has  it. 

Instances  without  number  might  be  cited  in 
support  of  this  flagrant  fact,  but  one  will  suffice 
for  the  present  purpose. 

Charles  W.  Morse,  a  multi-millionaire,  was  sen- 
tenced to  serve  fourteen  years  in  Atlanta  Federal 
Penitentiary  for  illegal  financial  manipulations 
involving  millions  of  dollars.  It  was  a  rare  in- 
stance, indeed,  that  a  man  of  millions  should  be 
sent  to  prison,  and  it  was  only  possible  through 
his  having  come  into  collision  with  still  more 
powerful  financial  interests.  Now,  prisons  are 
not  made  to  hold  multi-millionaires,  but  only  the 


140  WALLS   AND   BABS 

impoverislied  victims  of  their  manifold  manipu- 
lations. 

These  favored  few  who  may  appropriate  to 
themselves  untold  wealth  usually  operate  pru- 
dently within  the  law  under  expert  legal  advice 
and  guardianship  of  the  highest  priced  lawyers 
in  the  land.  The  imprisonment  of  one  of  them 
is  an  anomaly  for  which  there  must  be  special 
and  extraordinary  reason. 

Of  course  Mr.  Morse  was  not  permitted  to 
serve  his  sentence.  From  the  moment  the  prison 
doors  closed  upon  him  there  ensued  the  most  un- 
usual solicitude  on  the  part  of  the  government 
for  his  well  being. 

Very  shortly  after  Mr.  Morse  entered  Atlanta 
prison  the  assistant  surgeon  general  and  next  the 
surgeon  general  of  the  United  States  paid  him  a 
personal  visit  in  their  official  capacities.  As  a 
result  of  their  visits,  either  directly  or  indirectly, 
Mr.  Morse  was  transferred  to  Fort  McPherson 
and  placed  in  charge  of  two  special  nurses.  The 
examining  physicians  then  reported  to  the  de- 
partment at  Washington  that  in  prison  the 
patient  would  die  within  three  months,  and  that 
his  release  would  prolong  his  life  to  not  exceed- 
ing half  a  year. 

Some  interesting  details  which  I  possess  could 
be  added  here,  but  a  few  incidents  will  serve  the 
present  purpose.  According  to  common  report 
at  the  prison  and  elsewhere,  including  an  admis- 
sion by  Mr.  Morse  himself,  fabulous  fees  figured 


POVEETY   POPULATES   THE   PRISON  141 

in  the  affair.  A  certain  lawyer  who  formerly 
resided  in  Atlanta  is  understood  to  have  received 
a  sum  in  six  figures  for  his  part  in  Mr.  Morse's 
release,  and  he  is  now  practicing  law  in  New 
York. 

Harry  M.  Daugherty,  one  of  the  acting  attor- 
neys for  Mr.  Morse  at  that  time  (1908)  who  was 
later  Attorney  General,  also  received  a  fee  which 
no  poor  man  could  ever  have  paid  for  a  service 
of  which  no  poor  man  ever  would  have  been  the 
beneficiary^  The  man  in  the  White  House  who 
issued  the  order  that  cancelled  the  sentence  of 
the  multi-millionaire  and  set  him  free  is  now 
Chief  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States. 

It  remains  but  to  add  that  Mr.  Morse,  who  was 
to  have  died  ten  years  ago,  in  the  professional 
opinion  of  the  physicians  who  examined  him,  is 
still  alive,  and  has  once  more  come  into  collision 
with  the  Department  of  Justice  at  Washington 
in  matters  that  are  said  to  involve  more  millions. 

One  more  similar  case  is  here  cited. 

Frank  Xoble,  a  wealthy  tile  manufacturer,  was 
sentenced  to  ser\^e  four  months  in  jail  in  New 
Jersey  in  November,  1922.  Mr.  Noble,  with 
twenty-nine  other  persons  and  nineteen  corjDora- 
tions,  was  convicted  on  evidence  obtained  by  the 
Lockwood  Committee  in  New  York  City  of  hav- 
ing violated  the  Sherman  anti-trust  law.  Five 
physicians  examined  the  wealthy  prisoner,  and 
as  a  result  of  their  report  President  Warren  G. 


142  waijLS  and  baes 

Harding  ordered  him  released  from  jail  on  Janu- 
ary 8. 

Let  it  not  be  understood  that  any  satisfaction 
would  come  to  me  from  seeing  a  rich  man  kept 
in  prison.  I  do  not  believe  that  a  prison  is  a  fit 
place  for  any  human  being,  rich  or  poor,  and  I 
would  not  confine  my  worst  enemy  in  its  cruel 
cages. 

My  feeling  toward  the  prison  from  the  hour  I 
entered  it  was  such  that  I  rejoiced  in  the  de- 
parture of  each  of  those  whose  terms  had  ex- 
pired, and  I  was  saddened  by  the  entrance  of 
every  man  whose  shadow  was  cast  upon  its  grim 
portals. 

If  poverty,  of  which  so  many  are  now  the  help- 
less victims,  could  by  some  magic  of  power  be 
abolished  the  prison  would  cease  to  exist,  for  the 
prison  as  an  institution  is  cornerstoned  in  the 
misery,  despair  and  desperation  that  poverty  en- 
tails. 

The  reason  I  believe  that  the  time  will  come 
when  the  shadow  of  the  prison  will  no  longer 
fall  upon  the  land  is  predicated  upon  my  convic- 
tion that  the  day  will  dawn  when  the  scourge  of 
poverty — the  foster  parent  of  ignorance,  im- 
morality, vice  and  other  ills  that  afflict  the  chil- 
dren of  men — ^will  be  Banished  from  the  earth. 

During  my  prison  days  I  made  it  a  special 
point  in  my  contact  with  the  convicts  to  ascertain 
to  what  extent  their  poverty,  their  lack  of  pe- 
cuniary means,  was  responsible    for    their  im- 


POVEETY   POPULATES   THE   PEISON  143 

prisonment.  The  conclusion  was  forced  upon  me 
that  an  overwhelming  majority  were  sent  to 
prison  only  because  they  did  not  have  money  to 
take  full  advantage  of  the  means  afforded  to 
those  who  iDossess  it  of  escaping  the  penalties  of 
the  law  in  the  prevailing  system  of  its  admini- 
stration. 

"When  I  stand  before  the  turrets  and  battle- 
ments of  a  prison  I  have  a  sickening  sense  that 
the  institution  is  the  negation  of  hope,  the 
breaker  of  bodies,  the  blighter  of  spirits, — a 
scowling  reproach  to  society  and  a  towering 
menace  to  civilization.  If  any  good  issues  from 
it  under  its  present  regime  it  is  in  spite  of  its 
cruel  and  repressive  purposes  and  methods,  not 
because  of  them. 

I  am  wondering  in  this  connection  what  I 
would  think  of  myself  if  I  inflicted  poverty  upon 
my  fellow-man  and  then  damned  him  for  being 
poor  by  thrusting  him  into  a  steel  dungeon  to 
expiate  his  ^' crime*'. 

"When  human  society  has  become  intelligent 
enough  to  realize  the  responsibility  for  poverty 
it  will  also  be  humane  enough  to  refrain  from 
punishing  its  victims  by  consigning  them  to 
felons'  cells. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  hitherto  no  scientific  and 
comprehensive  method  has  been  devised  of  as- 
certaining and  setting  forth  clearly  to  just  what 
extent  poverty  is  directly  and  indirectly  respon- 
sible for  crime.    It  may  be  pertinent  to  observe 


144  WALLS   AND   BAKS 

here  that  it  is  certainly  not  a  flattering  commen- 
tary upon  society  that  so  many  find  it  easier  to 
steal  than  to  earn  an  honest  living. 

We  know  beyond  all  question  of  doubt,  after 
the  most  searching  investigations,  that  among 
women  poverty  is  responsible  in  an  overwhelm- 
ing number  of  cases  for  what  is  known  as  pros- 
titution. Is  it  not  shocking  to  think,  for  instance, 
that  a  woman  can  command  more  money  for  traf- 
fic in  her  sex  in  an  hour  than  it  would  be  possible 
for  her  to  earn  in  a  week  of  legitimate  labor? 

The  law's  delay  is  the  prolific  source  of  not 
only  gross  miscarriages  of  justice,  but  of  the  most 
cruel  discriminations  against  those  least  able  to 
bear  it.  Chief  Justice  Taft  is  on  record  as  saying 
that  such  delay  is  a  burning  disgrace  to  the 
American  system  of  jurisprudence.  Here  let  it 
be  stated  that  the  law's  delay  almost  invariably 
serves  the  interest  of  the  man  who  has  money 
and  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  man  who  has  none. 

The  man  of  financial  resources  has  no  trouble 
to  find  the  legal  technicalities  through  which  al- 
most indefinite  delay  finally  results  in  his  ac- 
quittal of  the  charges  against  him,  or  in  the  case 
being  forgotten  altogether.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  man  who  has  little  money,  or  none  at  all,  is 
juggled  by  cheap  lawyers  through  the  courts  un- 
til his  means  are  exhausted,  and  he  is  then  kept 
in  jail  for  weeks,  sometimes  months,  all  the  while 
his  presence  there  swelling  the  revenue  of  graft- 
ing officials. 


POVEKTY   POPULATES   THE   PRISON  145 

It  is  in  the  jails  where  many  young  men  are 
initiated  into  the  ways  of  crime  and  are  subse- 
quently launched  on  criminal  careers.  When  these 
men  leave  the  filthy  pest  houses  and  come  to  real- 
ize the  injustice  they  have  suffered  on  account  of 
their  poverty,  and  how  indifferent  society  is  to 
it  all,  they  are  apt  to  conclude  that  they  must 
find  ways  and  means  to  shift  for  themselves, 
especially  as  they  now  bear  the  brand  of  Cain 
for  life, — for  having  a  jail  record  is  quite  as  irrev- 
ocable as  any  other  feature  of  their  personali- 
ties. 

A  few  days  ago  a  young  man  called  upon  me  to 
relate  his  sad  story.  He  was  a  prisoner  at  At- 
lanta while  I  was  there.  He  was  quite  young, 
and  on  his  release  he  appeared  to  be  deeply  peni- 
tent, resolving  to  ^^go  straight"  for  the  re- 
mainder of  his  life.  He  soon  obtained  a  satis- 
factory position,  but  after  being  installed  in  it 
he  felt  that  he  should  be  frank  with  his  employer, 
whom  he  now  came  to  look  upon  as  his  bene- 
factor, and  concluded  that  he  must  tell  him  of 
his  prison  record. 

The  employer  was  rather  profuse  in  his  ex- 
pressions of  sorrow  for  the  former  plight  of  his 
new  employee,  but  told  him  that  he  could  not 
afford  to  have  in  his  employ  a  man  who  had  been 
a  convict.  Some  persons  might  think  the  young 
man  was  foolish  in  disclosing  his  prison  record, 
but  the  chances  are  the  employer  would  have 
heard  of  it  anyway,  and  summarily  dismissed  him. 


146  WALLS  AND   BAKS 

Now  what  IS  a  man  to  do  who  is  not  allowed  to 
make  an  honest  living  because  he  has  been  in 
prison?  The  question  answers  itself.  Is  he  not 
almost  inevitably  driven  into  crime  and  sooner  or 
later  forced  back  into  prison  by  a  society  that 
forbade  him  from  earning  an  honest  livelihood? 

Many  a  man  has  revenged  himself  upon  so- 
ciety in  the  most  gruesome  and  terrible  manner 
for  having  been  denied  the  opportunity  to  live 
down  an  error  in  his  past  life.  I  maintain  that 
the  state,  as  a  mere  matter  of  self-protection,  to 
say  nothing  of  its  moral  obligation,  should  con- 
cern itself  directly  with  men  and  women  released 
from  prisons  and  see  that  they  are  provided  with 
a  fair  opportunity  to  maintain  themselves  and 
their  families  in  decency  and  comfort,  and  that  all 
possible  encouragement  is  given  them  to  lead 
clean  and  useful  lives.  If  this  simple  device 
were  at  once  made  effective  it  would,  without  a 
doubt,  result  in  a  material  diminution  of  crime. 

But  almost  the  opposite  manner  now  has  public 
sanction  in  dealing  with  ex-prisoners  and  con- 
victs. It  is  taken  for  granted  that  they  are  all 
vicious  and  incorrigible.  Their  very  sentence  is 
prima  facie  evidence  of  their  innate  depravity, 
and  they  are  not  only  marked  for  perpetual 
ostracism,  but  are  to  be  pursued  and  hunted  and 
hounded  back  into  prison  again  as  if  their  crime 
consisted  in  being  turned  back  into  society. 

I  have  already  referred  to  how  the  offender  is 
pilloried  in  the  courtroom  and  how  he  is  punished 


POVEETY  POPULATES   THE   PEISON  147 

there  by  exposure  and  hnmiliation  even  though 
he  may  not  be  guilty  of  the  charge  lodged  against 
him.  Much  more  could  be  said,  also,  about  the 
foulness  of  county  jails  and  the  contamination 
of  youthful  first  offenders  who  are  consigned  to 
them,  and  of  the  process  whereby  criminals  are 
made  and  crime  is  spawned  and  fostered. 

I  shall  conclude  this  chapter  with  a  brief  state- 
ment of  the  foulest  and  most  abhorrent  and  de- 
structive evil  of  which  the  prison  is  the  pestilential 
breeding  place.  I  vshrink  from  the  loathesome 
and  repellant  task  of  bringing  this  hidden  horror 
to  light.  It  is  a  subject  so  incredibly  shocking  to 
me  that,  but  for  the  charge  of  recreance  that 
might  be  brought  against  me  were  I  to  omit  it,  I 
would  prefer  to  make  no  reference  to  it  at  all. 

Every  prison  of  which  I  have  any  knowledge, 
either  of  my  own  or  through  my  observation  and 
study,  reeks  with  sodomy.  It  is  the  vice  of  vices 
consequent  upon  the  suppression  of  the  sex  in-, 
stinct  in  prison  life.  I  am  unable  to  state  here 
the  many  hideous  and  unbelievable  forms  in 
which  this  fearful  and  debauching  vice  is  de- 
veloped and  practiced. 

I  saw  the  body  and  soul-destroying  effects  in 
many  of  its  victims  and  I  heard  tales  of  actual 
occurrence  that  sickened  and  almost  prostrated 
me.  It  is  this  abominable  vice  to  which  many 
young  men  fall  victims  soon  after  they  enter  the 
(prison — a  vice  which  often  blasts  their  hopes, 
ruins  their  lives  and  leaves  them  sodden  wrecks. 


148  WALLS   AND   BAKS 

It  may  be  imagined  that  the  perverted  practicers 
and  purveyors  of  sodomy  are  its  only  victims, 
but  this  is  an  awful  mistake  when  we  come  to 
realize  that  the  depravity  visited  upon  these  un- 
fortunate by  the  prison  system  goes  back  into 
society  to  contaminate  and  corrupt  to  the  extent 
of  their  own  pollution. 

The  stream  of  foul  language  that  flows  from 
the  lips  of  the  sodomite  registers  unerringly  the 
degree  of  the  depravity  to  which  he  has  sunk  as 
an  imprisoned  human  pervert. 

Not  as  long  as  the  prison  is  a  punitive  institu- 
tion, and  has  the  punitive  spirit,  and  is  under 
punitive  regulation  can  this  shocking  and  dev- 
astating evil  ever  be  successfully  coped  with, 
or  its  frightful  consequences  to  its  immediate  vic- 
tims and  their  ultimate  ones  be  materially  miti- 
gated. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Creating  the  Criminal.. 

The  most  vitally  important  phase  of  the  en- 
tire criminal  question  is  the  creation  of  the 
criminal  and  launching  him  upon  his  criminal 
career.  If  the  criminal  were  not  created  the 
prison  would  be  unknown.  If,  as  seems  to  me 
self-evident,  the  so-called  criminal  is  a  social 
product,  it  is  of  supreme  importance  that  society 
should  realize  not  only  its  own  responsibility,  but 
the  necessity  of  making  the  most  searching  in- 
vestigation of  the  process  whereby  crime  is  pro- 
duced, and  devising  means  to  suppress  or  at  least 
to  mitigate  the  evil. 

There  is  much  said  and  written  these  days, 
especially  by  lawyers  in  trial  courts,  about  crim- 
inal psychology.  The  subject  has,  in  my  opinion, 
been  considerably  overdone.  If  the  criminal  in- 
stinct actually  exisits  in  the  human  beiag  as  a 
positive  factor  in  his  mental  and  physical  organ- 
ism it  is  so  rare  and  exceptional  as  to  make  it  a 
subject  for  pathological  treatment,  and  only  by 
extravagant  exaggeration  can  it  be  regarded  as  a 
prevalent  psychology.  Most  men  and  women 
who,  by  the  lofty  professional  criminologists, 
would  be  charged  with  having  a  criminal 
psychology  are  simply  the  victims  of  social  in- 


150  WALLS   AND   BAKS 

justice  in  some  form,  and  when  the  canse  of  this 
is  ascertained  and  removed  and  the  victims  are 
accorded  human  treatment  in  terms  of  love  and 
service  their  *' criminal  psychology'*  at  once 
vanishes. 

I  should  rejoice  in  the  opportunity  to  take  a 
dozen  of  the  most  pronounced  cases  wherein 
criminal  psychology  has  been  established  by  the 
professors  who  delve  into  the  mysteries  of  the 
underworld,  place  them  in  their  proper  environ- 
ment, surround  them  with  wholesome  influence, 
and  give  them  such  incentives  to  right  living  as 
every  human  being  should  enjoy,  and  then  see 
what  becomes  of  the  ^* criminal  psychology'*  with 
which  these  dozen  human  specimens  are  supposed 
to  be  afflicted.  It  has  been  a  matter  of  such  com- 
mon observation  with  me  that  poverty,  generally 
speaking,  is  the  basis  of  crime  that  in  discuss- 
ing this  phase  of  the  question  I  am  under  the 
necessity  of  repeating  and  emphasizing  such  ref- 
erences to  poverty  in  relation  to  crime  as  were 
made  in  preceding  chapters. 

I  have  seen  boys  in  jail  not  because  they  had 
committed  crime,  but  because  they  could  not  fur- 
nish bail  for  their  release  until  the  charge  of 
crime  lodged  against  them  was  proven  at  their 
trial.  They  were  not  guilty,  but  were  presumed 
to  be  innocent,  for  they  had  not  been  tried.  Yet, 
they  were  in  jail  and  their  poverty  was  therefore 
their  crime.  Many  a  hardened  criminal  of  today 
was  started  on  his  career  in  some  such  way,  as 


CEEATIXG   THE    CKIMINAL  151 

I  learned  from  the  heart  to  heart  stories  I  heard 
from  their  lips  as  we  sat  together  in  the  shadows 
of  the  prison  walls. 

At  this  point  there  occurs  to  me  a  most 
poignant  and  concrete  incident  in  relation  to  the 
point  I  have  just  made,  with  the  exception  that 
the  case  concerns  a  girl  instead  of  a  boy.  Be- 
tween the  period  of  my  sentence  in  Cleveland  in 
September,  1918,  and  my  going  to  Moundsville 
Prison  to  serve  it  in  April,  1919,  I  made  an  al- 
most daily  speaking  tonr  of  the  territory  em- 
braced by  the  federal  judicial  district  of  northern 
Ohio,  being  joermitted  so  to  do  by  the  court  that 
had  pronounced  my  sentence.  An  appeal  in  my 
case  was  at  that  time  pending  before  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  United  States. 

I  had  filled  a  speaking  engagement  near  Cleve- 
land, after  which  I  visited  the  county  jail  and 
took  to  several  of  the  inmates  some  cigars,  to- 
bacco and  confections.  As  I  was  about  to  leave 
the  grim  and  forbidding  institution  I  heard  the 
shrieks  of  a  girl,  and  turning  around  I  saw  a  lit- 
tle lass,  certainly  not  more  than  16,  struggling 
between  two  policemen  and  pleading  with  them 
not  to  throw  her  in  jail  because  of  the  disgrace 
that  she  felt  would  come  upon  her  mother  and 
knew  would  fall  upon  her.  I  made  hurried  in- 
quiry of  the  officers  and  learned  that  a  police 
matron  was  the  direct  cause  of  the  plight  of  this 
child,  who  had  been  spied  upon  by  the  elder 
woman   when   the    girl,   in    desperate    economic 


152  WALLS   AND   BAKS 

necessity,  had  solicited  a  man  on  the  street  and 
taken  him  to  her  room.  There  she  was  pounced 
upon  by  the  matron,  taken  to  the  police  station 
and  from  there  sent  to  the  county  jail  to  await 
trial. 

I  had  but  a  few  moments  in  which  to  catch  a 
train  that  would  take  me  to  my  next  speaking  en- 
gagement, but  I  went  to  the  office  of  the  sheriff 
and  left  some  money  which  I  hoped  would  pay 
the  immediate  costs  of  the  girl's  case,  and  re- 
quested that  if  there  was  any  change  it  should  be 
turned  over  to  her.  If  there  had  been  the  least 
human  kindness,  sympathy  and  understanding  in 
the  police  matron  who  made  the  arrest  after  spy- 
ing upon  the  girl  and  hunting  her  down,  she 
would  have  found  a  way  to  mainfest  it  by  caution- 
ing the  child  against  continuing  the  sad  life  which 
she  had  involuntarily  persuaded  herself  to  fol- 
low. It  seems  to  me  that  the  innate  instinct  of  a 
woman  would  have  prevented  the  matron  from 
adopting  the  brutal  and  unreasoning  course 
which  she,  in  her  infinite  ignorance,  probably 
deemed  a  most  worthy  and  virtuous  action. 

I  am  not  unmindful  of  the  fact  that  many  peo- 
ple will  uphold  the  matron  and  will  consider  that 
she  vindicated  the  best  interests  of  society  by 
causing  this  child  to  be  branded  not  only  as  a 
common  prostitute,  which  she  was  not,  but  stig- 
matizing her  for  the  rest  of  her  life  as  a  woman 
with  a  police  record.  Between  those  who  adhere 
to  this  point  of  view   and   me    there   yawns  a 


CREATING   THE   CRIMINAL  153 

psychological  chasm  as  broad  and  as  deep  as  that 
which  stretches  between  love  and  hate. 

No  man  and  no  women,  more  especially  no  boy 
and  no  girl  should  ever  be  put  in  jail  for  being 
unable  to  furnish  bail.  We  declare  that  under 
our  benign  code  a  man  is  innocent  until  he  is 
proven  guilty  and  the  next  moment  we  lock  him 
in  jail  before  he  is  tried.  If  the  honor  of  men 
were  appealed  to,  and  they  were  trusted  to  put 
in  their  appearance  when  they  were  needed,  as 
was  the  common  practice  among  Indians  under 
their  tribal  code,  few  would  betray  the  confidence 
reposed  in  them,  and  far  better  it  would  be  should 
such  rare  instances  as  a  betrayal  of  confidence  oc- 
cur, than  that  a  single  innocent  boy  should  be 
lodged  in  jail  and  given  a  police  record  and 
started  on  his  criminal  career.  In  such  a  case  a 
crime  is  indeed  committed,  a  crime  of  cruel  and 
tragic  consequences,  and  society  itself  is  the 
criminal. 

The  man  with  money  is  never  the  victim  of 
such  a  crime.  His  money  and  not  necessarily  his 
innocence  keeps  him  out  of  jail.  He  can  furnish 
bail  though  he  may  be  guilty,  while  the  poor  man 
must  go  to  jail  though  he  may  be  innocent.  Yet 
we  proudly  boast  that  all  men  stand  equal  before 
the  law.  If  this  were  true  one  of  two  things 
would  follow,  either  men  would  no  longer  be  sen- 
tenced to  prison  and  the  prison  would  cease  to 
exist,  or  so  many  would  be  sentenced  to  prison 


154  WALLS  AND   BAKS 

that  innumerable  additional  bastiles  wonld  have 
to  be  built  to  confine  them. 

There  is  not  the  slightest  doubt  in  my  mind 
that,  as  a  general  rule,  the  criminal  is  created  by 
the  society  in  which  he  lives,  and  his  crime  as  a 
rule  is  rooted  in  his  poverty;  yet  little  intelligent 
attention  is  given  to  that  vital  and  fundamental 
phase  of  crime  which  has  to  do  with  the  creation 
of  the  criminal.  Society  is  greatly  agitated  over 
the  epidemic  of  crime  and  cries  out  for  protection 
against  criminals,  little  realizing  that  it  is  but 
reaping  the  fearful  harvest  of  dragon's  teeth 
sown  by  itself. 

And  what  is  the  usual  remedy  proposed  for 
combatting  crime  which  steadily  increases  in 
spite  of  the  church,  the  school  and  the  country 
club?  Adopt  more  drastic  laws!  Increase  the 
police  force!  Pronounce  longer  sentences!  In- 
flict severer  punishment  on  the  evil  doers,  etc., 
etc., — all  of  which  simply  indicates  the  puerile 
understanding  we  have  of  this  social  phenomenon 
known  as  crime.  All  our  efforts  are  put  forth 
to  suppress  the  effect  while  blindly  ignoring  the 
cause,  and  of  course  our  efforts  are  futile  and 
barren  of  results. 

Crime,  in  whatever  form  it  may  make  itself 
'  \  manifest,  is  traceable  in  every  instance  to  a 
definite  cause,  and  until  the  cause  is  removed 
crime  will  flourish  and  grow  apace  with  our 
vaunted  civilization.  We  deal  with  effects  only 
when  we  build  prisons  for  the  incarceration  of 


CREATING   THE    CRIMINAL  155 

criminals  that  we  ourselves  have  created  and  for 
whom  we  are  responsible. 

The  three  boys,  mere  children,  who  were  con- 
victed at  Chicago  some  years  ago  as  *'car  bam 
bandits '  \  never  had  a  home  in  any  decent,  whole- 
some sense  of  the  term.  They  were  the  inevitable 
products  of  poverty  and  the  slums.  The  only  in- 
terest that  society  had  in  them  it  imposed  upon 
them  as  a  penalty  of  its  own.  neglect  by  hanging 
them  by  the  neck  until  they  were  dead. 

Hard  economic  conditions  under  which  life  in 
its  richness  and  fullness  and  beauty  is  denied, 
and  under  which  gaunt  necessity  has  sway,  bear  a 
greater  share  of  responsibility  for  the  creation 
of  criminals  and  the  commission  of  crime  than 
all  other  causes  combined.  The  young  man  whose 
wage  is  insufficient  to  enable  him  to  marry  the 
girl  he  loves  feels  himself  tempted  to  take  what, 
in  his  inexperienced  youth,  may  seem  as  the 
easier  way  to  increase  his  scant  revenue  so  that 
he  may  realize  his  youthful  dream.  The  girl  in 
the  city  store,  or  the  factory,  whose  paltry 
stipend  barely  keeps  her  in  the  actual  neces- 
sities of  physical  existence,  and  whose  natural 
desire  to  indulge  in  some  of  the  beauty  and  en- 
joyment of  life  which  she  beholds  all  about  her, 
and  which  are  denied  by  virtue  of  her  stem 
economic  condition,  is  peculiarly  in  a  position  to 
yield  to  the  temptation  that  may  lead  her  into  the 
district  from  which  there  is  no  return. 

The  bitter  struggle  for  existence  is  account- 


156  WALLS   AND   BAKS 

able,  directly  and  indirectly,  for  men  turning 
criminals  and  attacking  by  lawless  means  the  so- 
ciety which  would  lawfully  allow  them  but  a  pre- 
carious and  miserable  existence.  The  arrest  of 
a  person,  however  innocent,  is  generally  regarded 
as  prima  facie  evidence  of  his  guilt.  Had  he  been 
innocent  he  would  not  have  been  arrested,  so 
concludes  the  average  mind,  and  thus  he  is  al- 
ready convicted. 

Is  it  not  apparent  at  a  glance  that  the  first 
step  has  been  taken  in  creating  the  criminal  when 
he  is  placed  under  arrest,  a  circumstance  which 
is  often  heralded  to  the  public  in  sensational  re- 
ports from  day  to  day?  After  the  arrest  follows 
the  jail  if  bail  money  is  lacking,  as  is  frequently 
the  case,  and  the  jail  is  most  likely  a  filthy  den 
wherein  the  first  offender  receives  a  rude  shock 
not  at  all  calculated  to  increase  his  self-respect, 
or  enchance  his  confidence  in  law  and  in  his  own 
future.  From  the  jail  he  is  taken  to  court  under 
guard  perhaps  handcuffed,  and  there  he  is  placed 
in  the  pillory  as  a  public  exhibit.  Everything  is 
done  as  publicly  as  possible  for  his  benefit,  and 
all  this  occurs  before  he  has  been  tried,  and  while 
he  is  presumably  entirely  innocent. 

The  public  does  not  know  the  secret  shame  and 
humiliation  which  the  untried  culprit  is  made  to 
suffer  in  this  round  of  public  exhibition  in  which 
he  is  the  involuntary  star  performer.  He  is 
being  punished  in  the  most  cruel  and  harrowing 
manner,  and  yet  the  unthinking  crowd  that  ogles 


CKEATING   THE   CBIMINAL  157 

him  in  a  courtroom  concludes  that  he  has  entirely 
escaped  punishment  unless  he  is  sentenced  to 
serve  a  term  in  a  penitentiary. 

Here  let  it  be  observed  that  the  agony  a  man 
not  utterly  devoid  of  self-respect  suffers,  the 
punishment  he  endures  as  the  result  of  his  first 
arrest,  his  initiation  as  a  jailbird,  his  advertising 
in  the  press,  his  exhibition  in  the  courtroom, 
guarded  as  if  he  were  a  convicted  felon,  are  more 
poignant,  more  terrible,  and  sear  and  scar  his 
spirit  more  deeply  than  any  prison  sentence  that 
may  subsequently  be  imposed. 

What  does  the  man  care  about  a  prison  sen- 
tence so  far  as  his  shame  and  degradation  are 
concerned  after  he  has  experienced  the  prelim- 
inary stages  of  his  ruin  and  downfall  in  the  pub- 
lic and  cold-blooded  manner  of  his  arrest,  in- 
carceration, trial,  conviction  and  sentence?  When 
he  finally  reaches  the  prison  his  case  as  a  convict 
is  settled  and  his  status  fixed  as  a  part  of  the 
criminal  element.  He  may  be  still  further 
hardened  in  his  bitterness  and  resentment,  and 
he  may  become  sullen  and  defiant  as  he  dons  his 
shabby  prison  garb,  but  it  is  almost  certain  that 
from  the  time  he  enters  prison  the  baser  qualities 
of  his  nature  will  be  developed  and  find  expres- 
sion. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  already  branded  a 
felon  before  his  trial  began  and,  figuratively 
speaking,  he  had  already  served  his  sentence  be- 
fore he  was  actually  convicted. 


158  WALLS   AND   BAES 

Oh,  if  we  were  but  more  hmnan  in  our  spirit 
and  attitude  toward  the  wayward  boy  or  girl, 
the  erring  and  unfortunate  amongst  us,  what  in- 
finite pain  and  trouble  and  expense  we  could 
escape  ourselves,  and  what  tragedy  and  grief  we 
would  spare  our  victims! 

How  far  better  it  were  to  quietly  caution  the 
young  against  their  indiscretions  than  to  have 
them  spied  upon  by  detectives  and  matrons, 
trapped  and  seized  and  exposed,  their  good  name 
blasted,  and  their  future  destroyed.  The  reason 
for  this  is  that  the  minions  of  the  law,  not  always 
too  scrupulous  in  its  administration,  thrive  in 
crime,  hold  their  official  tenures,  and  receive 
their  emoluments  and  rewards  from  crime. 


CHAPTER  XHL 

How  I  Would  Manage  the  Prison. 

Civil  service  regulations  have  little  efficiency 
under  a  corrupt  political  system.  The  farcical 
nature  of  civil  service  rule  as  it  applies  to  the 
selection  of  minor  officials  and  guards  in  federal 
prisons  is  reflected  in  the  low  character,  the 
ignorance,  brutality  and  general  unfitness  of 
some  of  these  functionaries  who  secure  and  hold 
their  tenure  through  political  ''pulP'  on  the  out- 
side in  spite  of  civil  service  reform. 

The  prison  warden  cannot  remove  his  guards 
except  for  specific  flagrant  misconduct  and  the 
immimity  they  thus  enjoy  is  a  virtual  license  to 
them  to  bully  and  intimidate  the  prisoners.  The 
fundamental  evil  in  the  present  prison  regime  is 
that  the  institution  is  under  the  absolute  control 
of  office  holders  and  politicians  who,  even  if  they 
had  the  inclination,  have  not  the  time  to  concern 
themselves  with  prison  affairs. 

Attorney  General  Daugherty,  for  example, 
who  was  vested  by  law  with  almost  absolute 
power  of  control  over  federal  prisons  had  prob- 
ably never  seen  one  of  these  institutions.  He 
had  the  power  of  life  and  death  over  every  one  of 
the  thousands  of  inmates,  and  yet  what  does  he 
know,  what  could  he  know  of  his  own  knowledge 


160  WALLS  AND  BAES 

of  the  prison  in  whicli  they  are  confined,  the  con- 
ditions that  exist  there,  and  the  many  evils  and 
abuses  of  which  they  are  the  suffering  victims? 

He  had  to  rely  absolutely  upon  what  was  fur- 
nished him  in  the  way  of  information  upon  his 
subordinates  who,  like  himself,  derive  their  in- 
formation from  still  other  subordinates  who  may 
perhaps  be  thriving  in,  and  are  possibly  the  di- 
rect beneficiaries  of  the  conditions  which  cry  for 
correction. 

The  drug  traffic  is  one  of  the  most  pernicious 
and  shameless  evils  of  our  prison  system.  It 
could  not  exist  without  official  connivance  and  for 
this  reason  has  never  been  suppressed  in  any 
federal  or  state  prison.  In  certain  instances  the 
most  sensational  disclosures  have  been  made  of 
the  traffic  in  ^^dope'',  organized  by  prison  officials 
and  attaches,  whereby  the  inmates  by  submitting 
to  gross  extortion  were  furnished  with  the  drugs 
and  appurtenances  for  their  use  by  the  very 
officials  who  were  hired  and  paid  to  suppress  such 
abuses. 

It  so  happens  that  I  had  an  active  hand  in  the 
sensational  and  shocking  exposure  that  was  made 
some  years  ago  of  the  appalling  conditions  in  the 
federal  prison  at  Leavenworth,  Kansas,  and 
which  created  a  national  scandal.  An  official 
shake-up  followed,  for  the  facts  were  too  flag- 
rantly in  evidence  to  be  concealed,  notwithstand- 
ing the  tremendous  political  pressure  from  the 
outside  brought  to  bear  to  that  end.    One  of  the 


HOW   I    WOULD    MANAGE    THE   PRISON  161 

high  officials  of  Leavenworth  was  accused  of  per- 
verted practices  with  the  inmates  and  was  al- 
lowed to  resign.  Expensive  suits  of  clothes  were 
made  by  prison  tailors  for  political  patrons  of 
the  officials.  Worst  of  all,  however,  was  the 
organized  drug  traffic  under  the  control  of  guards 
and  other  officials  who  derived  enormous  revenue 
from  furnishing  the  iamates  with  the  ^'dope" 
with  which  to  debauch  and  destroy  themselves. 

I  was  at  that  time  one  of  the  editors  of  a  Kan- 
sas paper  which  had  a  national  circulation.  Tak- 
ing the  cue  from  certain  reports  which  reached 
us,  we  conducted  a  secret  investigation  of  Leaven- 
worth Prison  in  which  we  had  the  co-operation  of 
certain  minor  officials  and  inmates.  After  ascer- 
taining the  facts,  we  proceeded  to  make  the  ex- 
posure in  a  series  of  decidedly  sensational  issues. 
All  kinds  of  reprisals  were  threatened  by  prison 
officials  and  politicians. 

Space  will  not  allow  a  detailed  review  of  the 
case  here,  but  I  must  at  least  make  mention  of 
my  having  been  indicted  in  the  federal  court  in 
Kansas  for  my  part  in  the  exposure.  The  in- 
tention of  those  who  had  been  exposed  was  to 
clap  me  in  Leavenworth  Prison  along  with  the 
rest  of  their  victims,  but  they  found  that  I  and 
my  associates  were  sure  of  our  facts  and  that 
we  courted  the  most  searching  inquiry.  For 
reasons  sufficient  to  themselves,  the  prison  and 
court  officials  reconsidered  their  course  and 
quietly  struck  the  indictment  from  the  docket. 


162  WALLS   AND   BARS 

Some  of  the  prison  rules  must  have  been  in- 
spired, if  not  written  by  such  humorists  as  Arte- 
mus  Ward  and  Mark  Twain,  or  such  satirists  as 
Bernard  Shaw  and  Henry  L.  Mencken.  I  shall 
allude  to  the  rules  of  Atlanta  Prison,  but  there  is 
little  difference,  if  any,  between  these  and  the 
regulations  that  obtain  in  other  penitentiaries. 

For  instance,  one  rule  says:  *^You  must  not 
try  to  escape".  This  naive  injunction  issued  in 
the  shadow  of  the  cold  steel  which  bars  every 
door  and  window  in  every  solitary  building  with- 
in the  towering  walled  enclosures  surmounted  by 
sharpshooters  would  seem  to  be  a  trifle  superflu- 
ous. 

Another  rule  to  which  reference  has  already 
been  made,  provides  that  inmates  are  expected  to 
''Cheerfully  obey  all  rules".  Comment  is  un- 
necessary. 

Still  another  forbids  an  inmate  to  approach  an 
officer  in  addressing  him  within  six  feet  of  his 
august  presence. 

*'You  must  uncover  your  head  in  respectful 
manner  and  touch  your  hat  or  cap  if  out  of  doors 
in  addressing  or  being  addressed  by  an  officer  or 
guard" — but  the  official  keeps  his  hat  on  his  sov- 
ereign head.  I  am  wondering  what  Lincoln  would 
have  thought  of  that  rule. 

The  prisoner  who  makes  the  mistake  of  getting 
into  the  wrong  cell  may  be  punished  under  the 
provision  of  another  rule. 

Personally,  I  not  infrequently    found    myself 


HOW  I   WOULD   MANAGE   THE  PEISON  163 

violating  the  important  rule  that  my  shirt  had  to 
be  buttoned  at  the  band.  Most  of  the  time  there 
was  no  button  at  the  band.  It  seems  strange  to 
me  that  pockets  were  allowed  in  jumpers  or  over- 
alls, for  a  specific  rule  forbids  prisoners  from 
putting  their  hands  in  their  pockets. 

Prisoners  are  required  to  rinse  out  their 
mouths  and  keep  their  lips  and  tongues  free  from 
tobacco  stains.  (This  rule  might  be  extended  to 
the  outside). 

Whistling  or  singing  is  in  violation  of  another 
rule, — and  no  wonder,  for  what  business  has  a 
song  to  be  heard  in  a  dungeon? 

In  the  prison's  present  raw,  haphazard,  utterly 
unscientific  state  of  management  almost  every- 
thing is  done  in  a  wrong,  fruitless,  wasteful  way. 
There  is  little  method  and  no  system. 

There  are,  in  fact,  in  every  prison  a  dozen  or 
more  little  prisons  and  the  inmate  is  subject  to 
the  regulations  of  them  all,  and  not  infrequently 
these  regulations  are  in  conflict.  On  a  number  of 
occasions  I  found  myself  violating  the  rules  of 
one  of  these  prisons  while  endeavoring  to  obey 
the  rules  of  another. 

The  various  departments  are  under  control  of 
petty  officials  and  each  is  an  autocrat  in  his  own 
sphere.  There  is  often  clash  of  authority,  but  in 
a  final  test  they  all  stick  together  for  their  mutual 
protection.  And  it  should  be  remembered  that 
not  one  word  in  the  way  of  a  report  or  a  com- 
plaint in  regard  to  what  goes  on  is  permitted  to 


164  WALLS   AND   BAES 

be  sent  out  by  the  inmate  while  he  is  behind  the 
walls. 

If  the  prison  were  scientifically  organized  and 
humanely  conducted  prisoners  would  be  sys- 
tematically assigned  to  useful  tasks  and  paid  ac- 
cordingly, instead  of  being  robbed  by  the  state 
and  their  families  allowed  to  suffer  penury  and 
want.  What  possible  excuse  or  justification  can 
there  be  for  the  state  robbing  a  helpless  prisoner 
of  his  labor  and  subjecting  his  family  to  starva- 
tion? 

In  a  great  many  cases  the  prisoner  himself 
was  guilty  of  no  such  crime  against  society  as 
that  which  society  perpetrates  upon  him  and  his 
offspring. 

I  marvel  at  the  incredible  stupidity  that  blinds 
the  men  in  control  of  prisons  to  the  redeeming 
power  of  kindness  as  a  substitute  for  the  de- 
structive power  of  brutality.  Every  instinct  of 
our  nature  protests  against  cruelty  to  the  help- 
less and  defenceless,  yet  of  all  places  where  it  is 
most  needed  mercy  is  least  practiced  in  the  treat- 
ment of  convicts.  I  have  seen  men  of  mild  tem- 
per and  gentle  disposition  made  sullen  and 
vicious  by  harshness  and  I  have  also  seen  the 
toughest  specimens  of  ^'bad  men'*  softened  and 
made  gentle  by  a  kind  word  and  the  touch  of  a 
friendly  hand.  Upon  this  point  I  can  admit  of 
no  possibility  of  a  doubt  as  to  the  saner  and 
humaner  method  of  dealing  with  the  prison  pop- 
ulation. 


HOW   I   WOULD   MANAGE    THE   PRISON  165 

In  hedging  a  prisoner  about  with  stern  and  re- 
pressive rules  to  reinforce  the  intimidation  of 
the  frowning  ways  every  effort  is  seemingly 
made  to  exclude  the  human  element  in  the  fra- 
ternity of  prisoners  and  in  the  autocratic  rela- 
tion assumed  toward  them  by  their  keepers. 
The  guard  and  the  inmate  cease  to  be  human 
beings  when  they  meet  in  prison.  The  one  be- 
comes a  domineering  petty  official  and  the  other 
a  cowering  convict.  The  rules  enforce  this  re- 
lation and  absolutely  forbid  any  intimacy  with 
the  human  touch  in  it  between  them. 

The  guard  looks  down  upon  the  convict  he  now 
has  at  his  mercy,  who  has  ceased  to  be  a  man  and 
is  known  only  by  his  number,  while,  little  as  the 
guard  may  suspect  it,  the  prisoner  looks  down 
upon  him  as  being  even  lower  than  an  inmate. 

I  have  a  thousand  times  had  this  borne  in  upon 
me  touching  the  relation  of  the  guard  and  the 
prisoners  in  his  custody. 

Not  until  the  prison  problem  in  all  of  its  vari- 
ous phases  is  recognized  as  of  national  instead 
of  local  concern  can  it  be  dealt  with  in  a  compre- 
Ihensive  and  effective  manner. 

Scientific  experts  would  find  here  a  field  of 
boundless  opportunity  for  service  second  to  none 
in  value  and  importance  to  humanity.  Plans  could 
be  formulated  upon  a  nation-wide  scale  for  the 
development  of  the  country's  resources,  for  the 
opening  of  highways,  the  reclaiming  of  swamp 
lands  and  desert  wastes,  and  the  construction  of 


166  WALLS  AND   BAKS 

public  works  of  all  kinds  to  absorb  tbe  labor  of 
every  prison  inmate  in  a  useful  and  constructive 
way  so  that  he  could  be  remunerated  for  his  ser- 
vices at  the  prevailing  rate  of  wages  without 
coming  into  demoralizing  competition  with  his 
fellow  worker  in  the  outer  world. 

This  would  at  once  create  an  incentive  to  the 
prisoner  to  do  his  best,  to  look  up  and  to  feel  he 
was  having  a  fair  chance  to  retrieve  himself. 
His  wages  would  meanwhile  support  his  family 
and  educate  his  children  instead  of  allowing 
them,  as  now,  in  penury  and  under  ostracism, 
to  become  a  charge  upon  the  community. 

But  what  could  be  done  under  rational  control 
to  correct  the  abuses  and  improve  the  conditions 
of  the  prison  as  it  exists  today?  Very  much 
indeed  could  be  done  were  it  not  for  the  organ- 
ized opposition  of  the  prison  power  itself  to  any 
radical  departure  from  the  present  corrupt,  in- 
efficient and  extravagant  system.  Men  whose 
positions  are  at  stake  do  not  look  with  friendly 
eyes  upon  such  a  change  as  is  contemplated  in 
this  proposal. 

Thomas  Mott  Osborne  is  intensely  unpopular 
among  prison  officials  of  high  and  low  degree,  for 
they  see  in  his  plan  of  prison  management  the 
abolition  of  the  corrupting  and  grafting  misrule 
of  which  many  of  them  are  the  beneficiaries. 

Coming  directly  to  the  question  of  improving 
the  prison  as  it  exists  today,  the  first  thing  I 
would  do  would  be  to  take  it  completely  out  of 


HOW  I   WOULD   MANAGE   THE   PRISON  167 

the  hands  of  politicians  and  place  it  under  the 
absolute  control  of  a  board  or  commission  con- 
sisting of  resident  men  and  women  of  the  high- 
est character,  the  humanest  impulses,  and  the 
most  efficient  qualifications  for  their  task.  The 
board  or  commission  should  have  complete  and 
final  authority  over  the  prison,  full  power  of 
pardon,  parole  and  commutation,  and  in  every- 
way charged  with  the  responsibility  to  the  state 
or  the  community  for  the  management  of  the 
prison. 

In  the  next  place,  I  would  have  the  prison 
population  organized  upon  a  basis  of  mutuality 
of  interest  and  self-government.  I  would  forth- 
with remove  every  gun  and  club  from  within  the 
walls  and  dismiss  every  guard.  At  Atlanta 
Prison,  for  example,  there  are  about  125  guards 
maintained  at  an  enormous  expense  and  the 
prison  could  be  managed  far  better  without 
them. 

The  most  efficient  guards  and  the  only  ones 
interested  in  making  the  prison  clean  and  keep- 
ing out  '^dope''  would  be  those  chosen  by  the  in- 
mates from  their  own  ranks.  As  previously 
stated,  any  honest  warden  would  admit  that  75 
per  cent  of  the  prison  population  consists  of  de- 
cent, dependable  men,  and  with  this  for  a  founda- 
tion I  would  proceed  to  build  up  the  superstruc- 
ture of  the  prison's  self-determination. 

T\^olesome,  nourishing  food  is  the  vital  ele- 
ment in  the  sustenance  of  physical  life  and  in 


168  WALLS  AND   BAKS 

prison  is  even  more  imperatively  necessary  than 
in  any  other  place,  save  a  hospital.  The  federal 
government  makes  sufficient  allowance  for  this 
purpose,  but  there  is  a  wide  space  between  the 
treasury  from  which  the  money  is  drawn  to  the 
table  upon  which  the  food  is  served,  and  in  the 
present  process  the  food  deteriorates  sadly  in 
various  ways  before  it  reaches  the  convicts.  The 
matter  of  feeding  the  prisoners  should  have  the 
most  careful  and  thorough  supervision  of  the 
officiating  board  who  could,  without  doubt,  devise 
a  method  of  having  the  food  furnished  that  the 
government  pays  for  free  from  graft  and  pecula- 
tion, and  cooked  and  served  in  a  clean,  decent  and 
appetizing  manner. 

The  industrial  life  of  the  prison  should  be 
organized  and  systematized  under  the  direction 
of  the  board,  supplemented  and  in  co-operation 
with  a  subordinate  body  chosen  by  the  convicts  of 
the  prison.  It  might  be  necessary  to  employ  a 
few  experts  or  specialists  from  the  outside,  but 
nearly  all  the  minor  official  positions  in  the 
offices,  shops,  yards,  cell-houses  and  about  the 
grounds  and  walls  could  and  should  be  filled  by 
the  inmates. 

I  would  have  all  the  prisoners  congregated  to 
hear  the  announcement  of  the  proposed  changes, 
inviting  their  suggestions  and  appealing  for  their 
co-operation  and  support.  This  would  be  a  di- 
rect appeal  to  their  honor,  their  self-respect,  as 
well  as  their  intelligent  self-interest,  and  there 


HOW  I   WOULD   MANAGE   THE   PBISON  169 

wonld  be  few  indeed  wlio  wonld  fail  to  respond 
with  gladness  of  heart.  An  overwhelming  ma- 
jority wonld  give  eager  acclaim  to  the  new  ad- 
venture, especially  if  the  proposal  were  submit- 
ted and  the  appeal  made  in  a  spirit  of  human 
kindness  and  even-handed  justice. 

I  would  have  the  great  body  of  prisoners  com- 
pose a  parliament  established  for  self-rule  and 
for  the  promotion  of  the  welfare  and  common 
interest  of  all.  A  code  of  by-laws  and  regula- 
tions would  have  to  be  adopted,  subject  to  the  ap- 
proval of  the  governing  body  of  the  institution. 

An  executive  council  consisting  of  inmate  mem- 
bers should  be  created  having  power  to  hold 
daily  sessions  to  receive  suggestions,  to  hear  and 
determine  complaints,  subject  to  appeal  to  the 
governing  board,  and  to  have  general  supervision 
and  direction  of  affairs  within  the  prison.  Minor 
bodies  for  special  service  of  whatever  nature 
could  be  provided  for  as  the  situation  might  re- 
quire. 

The  limited  space  at  my  command  prevents 
further  amplification  of  my  idea  of  prison  manage- 
ment, but  I  have  a  profound  conviction  that  it  is 
fundamentally  sound  and  practical — so  sound 
and  practical  that  I  challenge  the  powers  that 
control  our  prisons  to  give  me  the  opportunity 
to  put  it  to  the  test  in  any  prison  in  this  country. 
I  should  guarantee  to  greatly  improve  the  morale 
of  the  prison  the  first  week,  to  reduce  the  prac- 
tice of  immoral,  health-destroying    habits,    and 


170  WALLS  AND   BARS 

the  admission  of  *^dope''  to  the  minimum;  in- 
crease the  efficiency  of  the  service,  reduce  ma- 
terially tlie  expenses  of  maintenance,  and  return 
the  inmates  to  society  in  a  different  spirit  and 
appreciably  nearer  rehabilitation  than  is  now 
done  or  possible  to  be  done  under  the  prevailing 
system. 

I  should  expect  no  remuneration  for  my  ser- 
vice, but  should  regard  it  as  a  contribution  to 
society  in  return  for  my  education  in  and  gradua- 
tion from  one  of  its  chief  penal  institutions. 

In  this  connection  I  cannot  refrain  from  ex- 
pressing to  my  readers  the  conviction  that  the 
economic  and  social  ideals  which  I  hold, — ideals 
which  have  sustained  me  inviolate  in  every  hour 
of  darkness  and  trial,  would,  if  once  realized, 
not  only  reform  the  prison  and  mitigate  its  evils, 
but  would  absolutely  abolish  that  grim  and 
menacing  survival  of  the  dark  ages. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Capitalism  and  Crime. 

Crime  in  all  of  its  varied  forms  and  manifesta- 
tions is  of  such  a  common  nature  under  the 
capitalist  system  that  capitalism  and  crime  have 
become  almost  synonomous  terms. 

Private  appropriation  of  the  earth's  surface, 
the  natural  resources,  and  the  means  of  life  is 
nothing  less  than  a  crime  against  humanity,  but 
the  comparative  few  who  are  the  beneficiaries  of 
this  iniquitous  social  arrangement,  far  from 
being  viewed  as  criminals  meriting  punishment, 
are  the  exalted  rulers  of  society  and  the  people 
they  exploit  gladly  render  them  homage  and 
obeisance. 

The  few  who  own  and  control  the  means  of 
existence  are  literally  the  masters  of  mankind. 
The  great  mass  of  dispossessed  people  are  their 
slaves. 

The  ancient  master  owned  his  slaves  under  the 
law  and  could  dispose  of  them  at  will.  He  could 
even  kill  his  slave  the  same  as  he  could  any  do- 
mestic animal  that  belonged  to  him.  The  feudal 
lord  of  the  Middle  Ages  did  not  own  his  serfs 
bodily,  but  he  did  own  the  land  without  which 
they  could  not  live.  The  serfs  were  not  allowed 
to  own  land  and  could  work  only  by  the  consent 


172  WALLS  AND   BARS 

of  the  feudal  master  who  appropriated  to  him- 
self the  fruit  of  their  labor,  leaving  for  them  but 
a  bare  subsistence. 

The  capitalist  of  our  day,  who  is  the  social, 
economic  and  political  successor  of  the  feudal 
lord  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the  patrician  mas- 
ter of  the  ancient  world,  holds  the  great  mass  of 
the  people  in  bondage,  not  by  owning  them  under 
the  law,  nor  by  having  sole  proprietorship  of  the 
land,  but  by  virtue  of  his  ownership  of  industry, 
the  tools  and  machinery  with  which  work  is  done 
and  wealth  produced.  In  a  word,  the  capitalist 
owns  the  tools  and  the  jobs  of  the  workers,  and 
therefore  they  are  his  economic  dependents.  In 
that  relation  the  capitalist  has  the  power  to  ap- 
propriate to  himself  the  products  of  the  workers 
and  to  become  rich  in  idleness  while  the  workers, 
who  produce  all  the  wealth  that  he  enjoys,  re- 
main in  poverty. 

To. buttress  and  safeguard  this  exploiting  sys- 
tem, private  property  of  the  capitalist  has  been 
made  a  fetish,  a  sacred  thing,  and  thousands  of 
laws  have  been  enacted  and  more  thousands  sup- 
plemented by  court  decisions  to  punish  so-called 
crimes  against  the  holy  institution  of  private 
property. 

A  vast  majority  of  the  crimes  that  are  pun- 
ished under  the  law  and  for  which  men  are  sent 
to  prison,  are  committed  directly  or  indirectly 
against  property.  Under  the  capitalist  system 
there  is  far  more  concern  about  property  and  in- 


CAPITALISM   AND    CEIME  173 

finitely  greater  care  in  its  conservation  than  in 
human  life. 

Multiplied  thousands  of  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren are  killed  and  maimed  in  American  indus- 
try by  absolutely  preventable  accidents  every 
year,  yet  no  one  ever  dreams  of  indicting  the 
capitalist  masters  who  are  guilty  of  the  crime. 
The  capitalist  owners  of  fire  traps  and  of  fetid 
sweating  dens,  where  the  lives  of  the  workers  are 
ruthlessly  sacrificed  and  their  health  wantonly 
undermined,  are  not  indicted  and  sent  to  prison 
for  the  reason  that  they  own  and  control  the  in- 
dicting machinery  just  as  they  own  and  control 
the  industrial  machinery  in  their  system. 

The  economic-owning  class  is  always  the  po- 
litical ruling  class. 

Laws  in  the  aggregate  are  largely  to  keep  the 
people  in  subjection  to  their  masters. 

Under  the  capitalist  system,  based  upon  pri- 
vate property  in  the  means  of  life,  the  exploita- 
tion that  follows  impoverishes  the  masses,  and 
their  precarious  economic  condition,  their  bitter 
struggle  for  existence,  drives  increasing  numbers 
of  them  to  despair  and  desperation,  to  crime  and 
destruction. 

The  inmates  of  an  average  county  jail  consist 
mainly  of  such  victims.  They  also  constitute  the 
great  majority  in  the  state  prisons  and  federal 
penitentiaries.  The  inmates  of  prisons  are  pro- 
verbially the  poorer  people  recruited  from  what 
we  know  as  the  ** lower  class*'.    The  rich  are  not 


174  WALLS   AND   BARS 

to  be  found  in  prison  save  in  such  rare  instances 
as  to  prove  the  rule  that  penitentiaries  are  built 
for  the  poor. 

Capitalism  needs  and  must  have  the  prison  to 
protect  itself  from  the  criminals  it  has  created. 
It  not  only  impoverishes  the  masses  when  they 
are  at  work,  but  it  still  further  reduces  them  by 
not  allowing  millions  to  work  at  all.  The  capi- 
talist's profit  has  supreme  consideration;  the  life 
of  the  workers  is  of  little  consequence. 

If  a  hundred  men  are  blown  up  in  a  mine  a 
hundred  others  rush  there  eagerly  to  take  the 
places  of  the  dead  even  before  the  remnants  of 
their  bodies  have  been  laid  away.  Protracted 
periods  of  enforced  idleness  under  capitalism 
have  resulted  in  thousands  of  industrious  work- 
ing men  becoming  tramps  and  vagabonds,  and 
in  thousands  of  tramps  and  vagabonds  becoming 
outcasts  and  criminals.. 

It  is  in  this  process  that  crime  is  generated  and 
proceeds  in  its  logical  stages  from  petty  larceny 
to  highway  robbery  and  homicide.  Getting  a  liv- 
ing under  capitalism — the  system  in  which  the 
few  who  toil  not  are  millionaires  and  billionaires, 
while  the  mass  of  the  people  who  toil  and  sweat 
and  produce  all  the  wealth  are  victims  of  poverty 
and  pauperism — getting  a  living  under  this  in- 
expressibly cruel  and  inhuman  system  is  so  pre- 
carious, so  uncertain,  fraught  with  such  pain  and 
struggle  that  the  wonder  is  not  that  so  many  peo- 
ple become   vicious   and   criminal,   but  that   so 


CAPITALISM   AND   CEIME  175 

many  remain  in  docile  submission  to  such  a 
tyrannous  and  debasing  condition. 

It  is  a  beautiful  commentary  on  human  nature 
that  so  little  of  it  is  defiled  and  that  so  much  of 
it  resists  corruption  under  a  social  system  which 
would  seem  to  have  for  its  deliberate  purpose  the 
conversion  of  men  into  derelicts  and  criminals, 
and  the  earth  into  a  vast  poorhouse  and  prison. 

The  prison  of  capitalism  is  a  finished  institu- 
tion compared  to  the  cruder  bastiles  of  earlier 
periods  in  human  history.  The  evolution  of  the 
prison  has  kept  pace  with  the  evolution  of  so- 
ciety and  the  exploitation  upon  which  society  is 
based. 

Just  as  the  exploitation  of  the  many  by  the  few 
has  reached  its  highest  cultivation  and  refine- 
ment under  present  day  capitalism,  and  is  now 
carried  on  more  scientifically  and  successfully, 
and  is  yielding  infinitely  richer  returns  than  ever 
before,  so  has  the  prison  under  this  system  been 
cultivated  and  refined  in  the  infliction  of  its 
cruelty,  and  in  its  enlarged  sphere  and  increased 
capacity. 

Externally,  at  least,  the  prison  under  capital- 
ism presents  a  beautiful  and  inviting  appearance, 
but  behind  its  grim  and  turretted  walls  the  vic- 
tims still  crouch  in  terror  under  the  bludgeons  of 
their  brutal  keepers,  and  the  progress  of  the  cen- 
turies, the  march  of  Christian  civilization,  mean 
little  to  them,  save  that  the  prisons  of  capitalism 
are  far  more  numerous  and  capacious,  and  more 


176  WALLS  AND   BAKS 

readily  accessible  tlian  ever  before  in  history. 
They  signalize  the  civilization  of  onr  age  by  being 
composed  of  steel  and  concrete  and  presenting  a 
veritable  triumph  in  architectural  art. 

Capitalism  is  proud  of  its  prisons  which  fitly 
symbolize  the  character  of  its  institutions  and 
.constitute  one  of  the  chief  elements  in  its  philan- 
thropy. 

I  have  seen  men  working  for  paltry  wages  and 
other  men  in  enforced  idleness  without  any  in- 
come at  all  sink  by  degrees  into  vagabondage  and 
crime,  and  I  have  not  only  found  no  fault  with 
them,  but  I  have  sympathized  with  them  entirely, 
charging  the  responsibility  for  their  ruin  on  the 
capitalist  system,  and  resolving  to  fight  that  sys- 
tem relentlessly  with  all  the  strength  of  mind  and 
body  that  I  possess  until  that  system  is  destroyed 
root  and  branch  and  wiped  from  the  earth. 

During  my  prison  years  I  met  many  men  who 
were  incarcerated  as  the  victims  of  capitalism. 
Let  me  tell  of  one  in  particular.  This  will  typify 
many  other  cases  with  variations,  according  to 
the  circumstances. 

This  man  has  spent  nearly  forty-eight  years 
in  reformatories  and  prisons.  His  father  died 
when  he  was  a  child  and  his  mother  was  poor 
and  could  ill  provide  for  her  offspring.  At  the 
tender  age  of  seven  years  he  found  himself  in  a 
so-called  House  of  Correction.  There  he  was 
starved  and  beaten  and  learned  to  steal. 

Escaping  from  that  institution,  he  was  cap- 


CAPITALISM   AND   CKIME  177 

tured  and  returned.  From  that  time  on  he  was 
marked  and  his  life  was  a  continuous  battle.  He 
was  dogged  and  suspected  and  the  little  time  that 
he  was  out  of  jail  was  spent  in  dodging  the  de- 
tectives who  were  ever  on  his  track  like  keen- 
scented  hounds  in  pursuit  of  their  prey.  They 
were  determined  that  he  should  be  inside  of 
prison  walls.  In  this  cruel  manner  his  fate  was 
sealed  as  a  mere  child.  The  House  of  Correction 
for  poor  boys  and  girls  comes  nearer  being  a 
House  of  Destruction. 

I  spent  many  hours  talking  with  this  victim  of 
the  sordid  social  system  under  which  we  live. 
Despite  the  cruelties  he  had  suffered  at  its  hands, 
he  was  as  gentle  as  a  child  and  responded  to  the 
touch  of  kindness  as  quickly  as*  anyone  I  ever 
knew.  Society,  which  first  denied  him  the  op- 
portunity to  acquire  a  decent  means  of  living  and 
subsequently  punished  him  for  the  crime  which  it 
had  committed  against  him  and  of  which  he  was 
the  victim,  could  have  won  an  upright  and  use- 
ful member  in  this  man. 

As  I  have  already  stated  in  a  foregoing  chap- 
ter, I  declined  to  attend  the  prison  chapel  ex- 
ercises. There  were  many  other  convicts  who 
lent  their  presence  to  the  mockery  of  religious 
worship  over  which  guards  presided  with  clubs 
because  they  were  compelled  so  to  do.  The  par- 
ticular prisoner  to  whom  I  have  referred  ad- 
dressed a  letter  to  the  warden  protesting  that  he 
did  not  wish  to  attend  devotional  exercises  and 


178  WALLS  AND   BARS 

stated  the  reason  for  his  attitude.  He  wrote  and 
gave  to  me  a  copy  of  the  letter  and  I  introduce 
it  here  as  indicating  that  this  victim  of  the  bru- 
tality of  the  capitalist  system,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  he  had  spent  nearly  half  a  century  behind 
prison  bars,  still  possessed  sufficient  manhood 
and  courage  to  assert  himself  in  face  of  his 
cruel  captors. 

The  letter  follows  as  he  wrote  it : 
*^Sir: 

**I  desire  to  be  excused  from  attendance  on 
all  religious  services  here  which  no  longer  ap- 
peal to  my  curiosity  or  sense  of  obligation.  I 
need  practical  assistance  not  spiritual  consola- 
tion. 

*^My  imagination  has  already  been  over- 
worked to  the  impairment  of  my  other  mental 
faculties. 

^*I  do  not  believe  in  the  Christian  religion.    I 

have  formulated  a  creed  agreeable  to  my  mind. 

**I  have  always  been  fearful    of    those  to 

whom  government  grants  the  special  privilege 

to  furnish  a  particular  brand  of  theology. 

**I  deny  the  right  of  government  to  compel 
me  to  attend  any  kind  of  religious  service.     I 
claim  and  proclaim  my  religious  freedom  under 
the  U.  S.  constitution. 
Note, 

**In  reformatory  and  penal  institutions  I 
have  attended  religious  service  every  Sunday 
for  forty  odd  years — to  ivhat  purpose  f 


CAPITALISM   AlTD   CEIME  179 

The  entire  career  of  this  imfortunate  prisoner 
was  deteiinined  by  liis  imprisonment  in  Ms  cMld- 
hood,  and  as  well  might  he  have  been  sentenced 
for  life  in  his  cradle.  The  system  in  which  he 
was  born  in  poverty  condemned  him  to  a  life 
of  crime  and  penal  servitude  in  which  he  tyi^ifies 
the  lot  of  countless  thousands  of  others  doomed 
to  a  living  death  behind  prison  walls. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Poverty  and  the  Prison. 

There  is  an  intimate  relation  between  the  poor- 
house  and  the  prison.  Both  are  made  necessary 
in  a  society  which  is  based  upon  exploitation. 
The  aged  and  infirm  who  remain  docile  and  sub- 
missive through  the  struggle  for  existence,  to 
whatever  straits  it  may  reduce  them,  are  per- 
mitted to  spend  their  declining  days  in  the  coun- 
ty house  and  to  rest  at  last  in  the  pottersfield. 

But  they  who  protest  against  their  pitiless  fate 
rather  than  yield  to  its  stern  decrees,  they  who 
refuse  to  beg,  preferring  to  take  the  chances  of 
helping  themselves  by  whatever  means  seem  most 
available,  are  almost  inevitably  booked  for  the 
jail  and  the  prison. 

Poverty  has  in  all  ages,  in  every  nation,  and 
under  every  government  recorded  in  history,  been 
the  common  lot  of  the  great  mass  of  mankind. 
The  many  have  had  to  toil  and  produce  in  pov- 
erty that  the  few  might  enjoy  in  luxury  and  ex- 
travagance. But  however  necessary  this  may 
have  been  in  the  past,  it  need  no  longer  be  true 
in  our  day. 

Through  invention  and  discovery  and  the  ap- 
plication of  machinery  to  industry,  the  produc- 
tive forces  of  labor  have    been    so    vastly  aug- 


POVERTY   AND    THE    PRISON  181 

merited  that  if  society  were  properly  organized 
the  great  body  of  the  people,  who  constitute  the 
workers  and  producers,  instead  of  being  poor  and 
miserable  and  dependent  as  they  now  are,  would 
be  happy  and  free  and  thrill  with  the  joy  of  life. 

There  can  be  no  question  about  the  simple  and 
self-evident  facts  as  here  set  forth : 

First,  here  in  the  United  States  we  live  in  as 
rich  a  land  as  there  is  on  earth. 

Second,  we  have  all  the  natural  resources,  all 
the  raw  materials  from  which  wealth  is  produced 
in  practically  unlimited  abundance. 

Third,  we  have  the  most  highly  ef&cient  pro- 
ductive machinery  in  the  world. 

Fourth,  we  have  millions  of  workers  skilled 
and  unskilled  not  only  ready,  but  eager,  to  apply 
their  labor  to  the  industrial  machinery  and  pro- 
duce a  sufficiency  of  all  that  is  required  to  satisfy 
the  needs  and  wants  of  every  man,  woman  and 
child  under  a  civilized  standard  of  living. 

Then  why  should  millions  be  idle  and  suffering, 
millions  of  others  toiling  for  a  pittance,  and  all 
the  victims  of  poverty,  and  of  a  bleak  and  barren 
existence  ? 

The  answer  is,  that  capitalism  under  which  we 
now  live  has  outlived  its  usefulness  and  is  no 
longer  adapted  to  the  social  and  economic  con- 
ditions that  today  confront  the  world.  Profit  has 
precedence  over  life,  and  when  profit  cannot  be 
made,  industry  is  paralyzed  and  the  people  starve. 

Here  let  it  be  said  again,  and  it  cannot  be  re- 


182  WALLS  AND   BAES 

peated  too  often  nor  made  too  emphatic,  that 
poverty  and  ignorance,  with  which  poverty  goes 
hand  in  hand,  constitute  the  prolific  source  from 
which  flow  in  a  steady  and  increasing  stream 
most  of  the  evils  which  afflict  mankind. 

It  is  poverty  from  which  the  slums,  the  red 
light  district,  the  asylums,  the  jails  and  the  pris- 
ons are  mainly  recruited. 

It  was  in  the  so-called  panic  of  1873,  which 
lasted  ^ve  years  and  during  which  millions  were 
in  a  state  of  enforced  idleness  due  to  *^over  pro- 
duction *',  that  the  ^^  tramp '*  made  his  appearance 
in  American  life.  The  industrious  working  man, 
turned  by  his  employer  into  the  street  because  he 
had  produced  more  goods  than  could  be  sold,  be- 
came a  tramp;  the  tramp  in  some  instances  be- 
came a  beggar  and  in  others  a  thief  and  criminal. 
From  that  time  to  this  the  tramp  has  been  a 
fixed  institution  in  American  life,  and  epidemics 
of  crime  are  reported  with  regularity  in  the  daily 
press. 

Poverty  breeds  misery  and  misery  breeds 
crime.  It  is  thus  the  prison  is  populated  and 
made  to  prosper  as  a  permanent  and  indispens- 
able adjunct  to  our  Christian  civilization.  The 
most  casual  examination  of  the  inmates  of  jails 
and  prisons  shows  the  great  majority  of  them  at 
a  glance  to  be  of  the  poorer  classes. 

When,  perchance,  some  rich  man  goes  to 
prison  the  instance  is  so  remarkable  that  it  ex- 
cites great  curiosity  and  amazement.    A  rich  man 


POVERTY   AND   THE   PEISON  183 

does  not  fit  in  prison.  The  prison  was  not  made 
for  him.  He  does  not  belong  there  and  he  does 
not  stay  there.  The  rich  man  goes  to  prison  only 
as  the  exception  to  prove  the  rule. 

The  social  system  that  condemns  men,  women 
and  children  to  poverty  at  the  same  time  pro- 
nounces upon  many  of  them  the  sentence  of  the 
law  that  makes  them  convicts.  And  this  social 
system  in  the  United  States  rests  on  the  founda- 
tion of  private  ownership  of  the  social  means  of 
the  common  life. 

Two  per  cent  of  the  American  people  own 
and  control  the  principal  industries  and  the  great 
bulk  of  the  wealth  of  the  nation.  This  interesting 
and  amazing  fact  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  indus- 
trial paralysis  and  the  widespread  protest  and 
discontent  which  prevail  as  these  lines  are  writ- 
ten. The  daily  papers  are  almost  solid  chroni- 
cles of  vice  and  immorality,  of  corruption  and 
crime. 

In  the  City  of  Chicago  the  authorities  frankly 
admit  being  no  longer  able  to  cope  with  crime 
and,  happily,  Judge  W.  M.  Gammill,  of  that  city, 
comes  to  the  rescue  by  recommending  the  re- 
establishment  of  the  whipping  joost  as  a  deterrant 
for  the  crimes  and  misdemeanors  committed  by 
the  victims  of  a  vicious  social  system  which  Judge 
Gammill  upholds.  The  distinguished  judge's 
Christian  spirit  as  well  as  his  judicial  mind  are 
vindicated  in  his  happy  and  thoughful  suggestion 
which  is  finding  ready  echo  among  ruling  class 


184  WALLS   AND   BARS 

parasites  and  mercenaries  who,  no  doubt,  would 
experience  great  delight  in  seeing  the  poor 
wretches  that  are  now  only  jailed  for  the  crimes 
that  the  injustice  of  society  forces  them  to  com- 
mit, tied  to  a  post  and  their  flesh  lacerated  into 
shreds  by  a  whip  in  the  hands  of  a  brute. 

Commenting  upon  Judge  Gammill's  advocacy 
of  the  whipping  post  the  Tribune  of  Terre  Haute, 
the  city  in  which  I  live,  has  the  following  illum- 
inating editorial  in  its  columns  dated  April  12, 
1922: 

The  Whipping  Post. 

**Eevival  of  the  whipping  post,  Judge  W.  M. 
Gammill,  of  Chicago,  yesterday  told  the  commit- 
tee on  law  enforcement  of  the  American  Bar  As- 
sociation, would  have  a  great  effect  on  the  reduc- 
tion of  crime.  He  cited  examples  where  flogging 
tended  to  reduce  crime  and  presented  figures 
showing  the  number  of  murders  in  the  large 
cities.  In  1921  his  figures  showed  that  St.  Louis 
had  26  murders;  Philadelphia,  346;  New  York, 
261;  Chicago,  206;  Boston,  102,  and  Washing- 
ton, 69. 

^' There  is  a  good  deal  to  this.  Mushy  senti- 
ment regarding  *  honor  system',  and  the  soft 
theories  that  criminals  are  not  criminals  but  sick 
men,  and  other  things  of  this  sort,  have  reduced 
the  fear  of  the  law  to  a  minimum  and  desperate 
characters  no  longer  hesitate  at  desperate 
crimes. 

**  Half-baked  minds  will  register  horror  at  the 


POVERTY  AND   THE  PEISON  185 

idea  of  restoring  the  whipping  post.  These  will 
cry  that  the  world  is  ^returning  to  barbarism'. 
The  fact  is  that  the  world  can  return  to  ^bar- 
barism' with  the  forces  of  law  and  order  direct- 
ing the  ^return',  or  it  can  return  to  the  bar- 
barism of  the  criminal,  where  life  and  property 
are  held  at  naught,  and  rule  is  by  the  pistol, 
black-jack  and  terrorism.  The  present  crime 
wave  indicates  that  the  world  is  well  on  its  way  to 
return  to  the  latter  form  of  ^barbarism'  and  the 
law-abiding  jDeople  of  the  world  are  getting  very 
much  the  worst  of  it.  The  general  re-establish- 
ment of  the  whipping  post  would  stop  the  present 
well  advanced  return  to  barbarism.  The  whip- 
ping post  should  hold  terror  for  but  one  class, 
and  the  sooner  this  class  is  banished  from  our  so- 
ciety the  better.  No  law  abiding  citizens  should 
have  any  apprehension  over  Judge  GammilPs 
suggestion''. 

This  editorial,  reflecting  as  it  does  the  en- 
lightened opinion  of  the  ruling  class  of  which  it 
is  a  recognized  organ  in  the  community,  is  its  own 
sufficient  commentary. 

In  the  chapter  which  follows  I  shall  show  how 
poverty  as  it  now  exists  may  be  abolished,  and 
how  in  consequence  of  such  an  organic  social 
change  the  prison  as  such  would  no  longer  be 
necessary. 

For  the  present  I  feel  impelled  to  emphasize 
the  fact  that  poverty  is  mainly  responsible  for 
the  prison  and  that,  after  all,  it  is  poverty  that 


186  WALLS   AND   BARS 

is  penalized  and  imprisoned  under  the  present 
social  order. 

It  is  true  that  people  may  be  poor  and  not  go 
to  prison,  but  it  is  likewise  true  that  most  of  those 
who  serve  prison  sentences  do  so  as  the  result  of 
their  poverty. 

From  the  hour  of  my  first  imprisonment  in  a 
filthy  county  jail  I  recognized  the  fact  that  the 
prison  was  essentially  an  institution  for  the 
punishment  of  the  poor,  and  this  is  one  of  many 
reasons  why  I  abhor  the  prison,  and  why  I  recog- 
nize it  to  be  my  duty  to  do  all  in  my  power  to 
humanize  it  as  far  as  possible  while  it  exists,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  put  forth  all  my  efforts  to 
abolish  the  social  system  which  makes  the  prison 
necessary  by  creating  the  victims  who  rot  behind 
its  ghastly  walls. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Socialism  and  the  Prison. 

Socialism  and  prison  are  antagonistic  terms. 

Socialism  means  freedom  and  when  the  people 
are  free  they  will  not  be  under  the  necessity  of 
committing  crime  and  going  to  prison.  Such  ex- 
ceptional cases  as  there  may  be  requiring 
restraint  for  the  protection  of  society  will  be 
cared  for  in  institutions  and  under  conditions  be- 
tokening a  civilization  worthy  of  the  name. 

Socialism  will  abolish  the  prison  by  removing 
its  cause  and  putting  an  end  to  the  vicious  con- 
ditions which  make  such  a  hideous  thing  as  the 
prison  a  necessity  in  the  community  life. 

I  am  aware  in  advance  that  what  is  said  here  in 
regard  to  abolishing  the  prison  will  be  met  with 
incredulity,  if  not  derision,  and  that  the  theory 
and  proposal  I  advance  will  be  pronounced  vis- 
ionary, impractical  and  impossible.  Neverthe- 
less, my  confidence  remains  unshaken  that  the 
time  will  come  when  society  will  be  so  far  ad- 
vanced that  it  will  be  too  civilized  and  too  humane 
to  maintain  a  prison  for  the  punishment  of  an 
erring  member,  and  that  man  will  think  too  well 
of  himself  to  cage  his  brother  as  a  brute,  place 
an  armed  brute  over  him,  feed  him  as  a  brute, 


188  WALLS  AND   BAES 

treat  him  as  a  brute,  and  reduce  him  to  the  level 
of  a  brute. 

Socialism  jDroposes  that  the  people — all  the 
people — shall  socially  own  the  sources  of  wealth 
and  social  means  with  which  wealth  is  produced; 
that  the  people,  in  other  words,  shall  be  the  joint 
proprietors  upon  equal  terms  of  the  industries  of 
the  nation,  that  these  shall  be  co-operatively 
oiDerated  and  democratically  managed;  it  pro- 
poses that  the  people  shall  appropriate  to  them- 
selves the  whole  of  the  wealth  they  create  to 
freely  satisfy  their  normal  wants  instead  of  turn- 
ing the  bulk  of  that  wealth  over,  as  they  now  do, 
to  idlers,  parasites  and  non-producers  while  they 
suffer  in  poverty  and  want. 

Wlien  the  community  life  is  organized  upon  a 
co-operative  basis  according  to  the  socialistic 
program  every  man  and  woman  will  have  the  in- 
alienable right  to  work  with  the  most  improved 
modem  machinery  and  under  the  most  favorable 
possible  conditions  with  the  assurance  that  they 
will  receive  in  return  the  equivalent  of  their 
product,  and  that  they  may  enjoy  in  freedom  and 
peace  the  fruit  of  their  labor. 

In  such  a  society  there  will  be  a  mutuality  of 
interest  and  a  fraternity  of  spirit  that  will  pre- 
clude the  class  antagonism  and  the  hatred  re- 
sulting therefrom  which  now  prevail,  and  men 
and  women  will  work  together  with  joy,  not  as 
wage  slaves  for  a  pittance,  but  in  economic  free- 
dom and  in  an  atmosphere  of  mutual  goodwill 


SOCIALISM   AND   THE   PRISON  189 

and  peace.  The  machine  will  be  the  only  slave, 
the  workday  will  be  reduced  in  proportion  as  the 
productive  capacity  is  increased  by  improved  ma- 
chinery and  methods,  so  that  each  life  may  be  as- 
sured sufficient  leisure  for  its  higher  and  nobler 
development. 

What  incentive  would  there  be  for  a  man  to 
steal  when  he  could  acquire  a  happy  living  so 
much  more  easily  and  reputably  by  doing  his 
share  of  the  community  work  ?  He  would  have  to 
be  a  perverted  product  of  capitalism  indeed  who 
would  rather  steal  than  serve  in  such  a  com- 
munity. Men  do  not  shrink  from  work,  but  from 
slavery.  The  man  who  works  primarily  for  the 
benefit  of  another  does  so  only  under  compulsion, 
and  work  so  done  is  the  very  essence  of  slavery. 

Under  Socialism  no  man  will  depend  upon 
another  for  a  job,  or  upon  the  self-interest  or 
good  will  of  another  for  a  chance  to  earn  bread 
for  his  wife  and  child.  No  man  will  work  to  make 
a  profit  for  another,  to  enrich  an  idler,  for  the 
idler  will  no  longer  own  the  means  of  life.  No  man 
will  be  an  economic  dependent  and  no  man  need 
feel  the  pinch  of  poverty  that  robs  life  of  all  joy 
and  ends  finally  in  the  county  house,  the  prison 
and  pottersfield. 

The  healthy  members  of  the  community  will  all 
be  workers,  and  they  will  be  rulers  as  well  as 
workers,  for  they  will  be  their  own  masters  and 
freely  determine  the  conditions  under  which  they 
shall  work  and  live.    There  will  be  no  arrog^ant 


190  WALLS  AND   BARS 

capitalists  on  the  one  hand  demanding  their 
profits,  nor  upon  the  other  cowering  wage  slaves 
dependent  upon  paltry  and  insufficient  wages. 

Industrial  self-government,  social  democracy, 
will  completely  revolutionize  the  community  life. 
For  the  first  time  in  history  the  people  will  be 
truly  free  and  rule  themselves,  and  when  this 
comes  to  pass  poverty  will  vanish  like  mist  before 
the  sunrise.  AVhen  poverty  goes  out  of  the  world 
the  prison  will  remain  only  as  a  monument  to  the 
ages  before  light  dawned  upon  darkness  and 
civilization  came  to  mankind. 

It  is  to  inaugurate  this  world-wide  organic  so- 
cial change  that  the  workers  in  all  lands  and  all 
climes  are  marshaling  their  forces,  recognizing 
their  kinship,  and  proclaiming  their  international 
solidarity. 

The  world's  workers  are  to  become  the  world's 
rulers.  The  great  transformation  is  impending 
and  all  the  underlying  laws  of  the  social  fabric 
and  all  the  irresis table  forces  of  industrial  and 
social  evolution  are  committed  to  its  triumphant 
consummation. 

Capitalism  has  had  its  day  and  must  go.  The 
capitalist  cannot  function  as  such  in  free  society. 
He  will  own  no  job  except  his  own  as  a  worker 
and  to  hold  that  he  must  work  for  what  he  gets 
the  same  as  any  other  worker.  No  man  has,  or 
ever  did  have,  the  right  to  live  on  the  labor  of 
another;  to  make  a  profit  out  of  another,  to  rob 


SOCIALISM   AND   THE   PRISON  191 

another  of  the  fruit  of  his  toil,  his  liberty  and  his 
life. 

Capitalism  is  inherently  a  criminal  system  for 
it  is  based  upon  the  robbery  of  the  working  class 
and  corner-stoned  in  its  slavery.  The  title-deed 
held  by  the  capitalist  class  to  the  tools  used  by 
the  working  class  is  also  the  title-deed  to  their 
liberty  and  their  lives. 

Economic  slavery  is  at  the  foundation  of  every 
other  slavery  of  body,  mind  and  soul.  But  the 
capitalists  rob  not  only  the  workers,  but  also 
themselves  in  appropriating  what  is  produced  in 
the  sweat  and  misery  of  their  toil.  They  lapse 
into  a  state  of  parasitism  that  robs  them  of  their 
higher  development,  the  intellectual  and  spiritual 
estate  to  which  all  human  beings  are  heirs  who 
live  in  accordance  with  the  higher  laws  of  their 
being. 

Often  at  night  in  my  narrow  prison  quarters 
when  all  about  me  was  quiet  I  beheld  as  in  a 
vision  the  majestic  march  of  events  in  the  trans- 
formation of  the  world. 

I  saw  the  working  class  in  which  I  was  bom 
and  reared,  and  to  whom  I  owe  my  all,  engaged  in 
the  last  great  conflict  to  break  the  fetters  that  have 
bound  them  for  ages,  and  to  stand  forth  at  last, 
emancipated  from  every  form  of  servitude,  the 
sovereign  rulers  of  the  world. 

It  was  this  vision  that  sustained  me  in  every 
hour  of  my  imprisonment,  for  I  felt  deep  within 
me,  in  a  way  that  made  it  prophecy  fulfilled,  that 


192  WALLS   AND   BABS 

the  long  night  was  far  spent  and  that  the  dawn  of 
the  glad  new  day  was  near  at  hand. 

In  my  prison  life  I  saw  in  a  way  I  never  had 
before  the  blighting,  disfiguring,  destroying 
effects  of  capitalism.  I  saw  here  accentuated 
and  made  more  hideous  and  revolting  than  is 
manifest  in  the  outer  world  the  effects  of  the 
oppression  and  cruelty  inflicted  upon  the  victims 
of  this  iniquitous  system. 

On  the  outside  of  the  prison  walls  the  wage 
slave  begs  his  master  for  a  job;  on  the  inside  he 
cowers  before  the  club  of  his  keeper.  The  entire 
process  is  a  degenerating  one  and  robs  the  human 
being,  either  as  a  wage  slave  walking  the  street 
or  as  a  convict  crouching  in  a  cell,  of  every  at- 
tribute of  sovereignty  and  every  quality  that 
dignifies  his  nature. 

Socialism  is  the  antithesis  of  capitalism.  It 
means  nothing  that  capitalism  means,  and  every- 
thing that  capitalism  does  not. 

Capitalism  means  private  ownership,  compe- 
tition, slavery  and  starvation. 

Socialism  means  social  ownership,  co-opera- 
tion, freedom  and  abundance  for  all. 

Socialism  is  the  spontaneous  expression  of 
human  nature  in  concrete  social  forms  to  meet  the 
demands  and  regulate  the  terms  of  the  common 
life. 

The  human  being  is  a  social  being,  and  So- 
cialism would  organize  his  life  in  the  social  spirit, 


SOCIALISM   AND   THE   PRISON  193 

under  social  conditions  and  along  social  lines  of 
advancement. 

What  more  natural  than  that  things  of  a  social 
nature  in  a  community  should  be  socially  owned 
and  socially  administered  for  the  individual  and 
social  well-being  of  all ! 

What  more  unnatural,  what  more  antagonistic 
to  every  social  instinct,  than  the  private  owner- 
ship of  the  social  means  of  life ! 

Socialism  is  evolving  every  hour  of  the  day 
and  night  and  all  attempts  to  arrest  its  progress 
but  increase  its  power,  accelerate  its  momentum 
and    insure    its    triumph    for    the  liberation  of 
humanity  throughout  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XVn. 

Prison  Labor,  Its  Effects  on  Industry 

AND  Trade. 

(Address  before  Nineteenth  Century  Club  at 

Delmonieo 's,  New  York  City,  March 

21st,  1899.) 

In  my  early  years  I  stood  before  the  open  door 
of  a  blazing  furnace  and  piled  in  the  fuel  to  cre- 
ate steam  to  speed  a  locomotive  along  the  iron 
track  of  progress  and  civilization.  In  the  cos- 
tume of  my  craft,  through  the  grime  of  mingled 
sweat  and  smoke  and  dust  I  was  initiated  into 
the  great  brotherhood  of  labor.  The  locomotive 
was  my  alma  mater.  I  mastered  the  curriculum 
and  graduated  with  the  degree  of  D.  D.,  not,  as 
the  lexicons  interpret  the  letters,  ^'Doctor  of  Di- 
vinity'', but  that  better  signification,  ^*Do  and 
Dare'' — a  higher  degree  than  Aristotle  conferred 
in  his  Lyceum  or  Plato  thundered  from  his 
academy. 

I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  telling  how  little  I 
know  about  Latin  to  those  who  have  slaked  their 
thirst  for  learning  at  the  Pierian  springs,  but 
there  is  a  proverb  that  has  come  down  to  us  from 
the  dim  past  which  reads,  ^^ Omnia  vincit  labor" 
and  which  has  been  adopted  as  the  shibboleth  of 
the  American  labor  movement  because,  when  re- 


PEISON  LAEOK,  ITS  EFFECTS  ON  Iin)USTEY        195 

duced  to  English,  it  reads  *^  Labor  overcomes  all 
things  *\  In  a  certain  sense  this  is  true.  Labor 
has  built  this  great  metropolis  of  the  new  world, 
built  it  as  coral  insects  build  the  foundations  of 
islands — build  and  die;  build  from  the  fathom- 
less depths  of  the  ocean  until  the  mountain  bil- 
lows are  dashed  into  spray  as  they  beat  against 
the  fortifications  beneath  which  the  builders  are 
forever  entombed  and  forgotten. 

Here  in  this  proud  city  where  wealth  has  built 
its  monuments  grander  and  more  imposing  than 
any  of  the  seven  wonders  of  the  world  named  in 
classic  lore,  if  you  will  excavate  for  facts  you 
will  find  the  remains,  the  bones  of  the  toilers, 
buried  and  embedded  in  their  foundations.  They 
lived,  they  wrought,  they  died.  In  their  time 
they  may  have  laughed  and  sung  and  danced  to 
the  music  of  their  clanking  chains.  They  mar- 
ried, propagated  their  species,  and  perpetuated 
conditions  which,  growing  steadily  worse,  are  to- 
day the  foulest  blot  the  imagination  can  conceive 
upon  our  much  vaunted  civilization. 

And  from  these  conditions  there  flow  a  thou- 
sand streams  of  vice  and  crime  which  have 
broadened  and  deepened  until  they  constitute  a 
perpetual  menace  to  the  peace  and  security  of 
society.  Jails,  work-houses,  reformatories  and 
penitentiaries  have  been  crowded  with  victims, 
and  the  question  how  to  control  these  institutions 
and  their  unfortunate  inmates  is  challenging  the 


196  WALLS   AND   BARS 

most  serious  thought  of  the  most  advanced  na- 
tions on  the  globe. 

The  particular  phase  of  this  grave  and  mel- 
ancholy question  which  we  are  to  consider  this 
evening  is  embodied  in  the  subject  assigned  the 
speakers  ^^  Prison  Labor,  Its  Effect  on  Industry 
and  Trade  ^\ 

I  must  confess  that  it  would  have  suited  my 
purpose  better  had  the  subject  been  transposed 
so  as  to  read:  ** Industry  and  Trade,  Their  Ef- 
fect on  Labor '  %  for,  as  a  Socialist,  I  am  convinced 
that  the  prison  problem  is  rooted  in  the  present 
system  of  industry  and  trade,  carried  forward, 
as  it  is,  purely  for  private  profit  without  the 
slightest  regard  to  the  effect  upon  those  engaged 
in  it,  especially  the  men,  women  and  children  who 
perform  the  useful,  productive  labor  which  has 
created  all  wealth  and  all  civilization. 

Serious  as  is  the  problem  presented  in  the  sub- 
ject of  our  discussion,  it  is  yet  insignificant  when 
compared  with  the  vastly  greater  question  of  the 
effect  of  our  social  and  economic  system  upon  in- 
dustry and  trade. 

The  pernicious  effect  of  prison  contract  labor 
upon  **free  labor",  so-called,  when  brought  into 
competition  with  it  in  the  open  market,  is  uni- 
versally conceded,  but  it  should  not  be  overlooked 
that  prison  labor  is  itself  an  effect  and  not  a 
cause,  and  that  convict  labor  is  recruited  almost 
wholly  from  the  propertyless,  wage-working  class 
and  that  the  inhuman  system  which  has  reduced 


PRISON  LAEOB,  ITS  EFFECTS  ON  INDUSTRY         197 

a  comparative  few  from  enforced  idleness  to 
crime,  has  smik  the  whole  mass  of  labor  to  the 
dead  level  of  industrial  servitude. 

It  is  therefore  the  economic  system,  which  is 
responsible  for,  not  only  prison  labor,  but  for  the 
gradual  enslavement  and  degradation  of  all  la- 
bor, that  we  must  deal  before  there  can  be  any 
solution  of  the  prison  labor  problem  or  any  per- 
manent relief  from  its  demoralizing  influences. 

But  we  will  briefly  consider  the  etf  ects  of  prison 
labor  upon  industry  and  then  pass  to  the  larger 
question  of  the  cause  of  prison  labor  and  its  ap- 
palling increase,  to  which  the  discussion  logically 
leads. 

From  the  earliest  ages  there  has  been  a  prison 
problem.  The  ancients  had  their  bastiles  and 
their  dungeons.  Most  of  the  pioneers  of  prog- 
ress, the  haters  of  oppression,  the  lovers  of  lib- 
erty, whose  names  now  glorify  the  pantheon  of 
the  world,  made  such  institutions  a  necessity  in 
their  day.  But  civilization  advances,  however 
slowly,  and  there  has  been  some  progress. 

It  required  five  hundred  years  to  travel  from 
the  inquisition  to  the  injunction. 

In  the  earlier  days  punishment  was  the  sole 
purpose  of  imprisonment.  Offenders  against  the 
ruling  class  must  pay  the  penalty  in  a  prison  cell, 
which,  not  infrequently,  was  equipped  with  in- 
struments of  torture.  With  the  civilizing  process 
came  the  idea  of  a  reformation  of  the  culprit, 
and  this  idea  prompts  every  investigation  made 


198  WALLS   AND   BAES 

of  the  latter-day  problem.  Tlie  inmates  must  be 
set  to  work  for  their  own  good,  no  less  than  for 
the  good  of  the  state. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  the  convict  labor  prob- 
lem began  and  it  has  steadily  expanded  from  that 
time  to  this  and  while  there  have  been  some  tem- 
porary modifications  of  the  evil,  it  is  still  an  un- 
mitigated curse  from  which  there  can  be  no  escape 
while  an  economic  system  endures  in  which  labor, 
that  is  to  say  the  laborer,  man,  woman  and  child, 
is  sold  to  the  lowest  bidder  in  the  markets  of  the 
world. 

More  than  thirty  years  ago  Professor  E.  C. 
Wines  and  Professor  Theodore  W.  Dwight,  then 
commissioners  of  the  Prison  Association  of  New 
York,  made  a  report  to  the  legislature  of  the 
state  on  prison  industry  in  which  they  said: 

*^Upon  the  whole  it  is  our  settled  conviction 
that  the  contract  system  of  convict  labor,  added 
to  the  system  of  political  appointments,  which 
necessarily  involves  a  low  grade  of  official  quali- 
fication and  constant  changes  in  the  prison  staff, 
renders  nugatory,  to  a  great  extent,  the  whole 
theory  of  our  penitentiary  system.  Inspection 
may  correct  isolated  abuses;  philanthropy  may 
relieve  isolated  cases  of  distress;  and  religion 
may  effect  isolated  moral  cures;  but  genuine, 
radical,  comprehensive,  systematic  improvement 
is  impossible. '* 

The  lapse  of  thirty  years  has  not  affected  the 
wisdom  or  logic  of  the  conclusion.    It  is  as  true 


PEISON  LAEOB,  ITS  EFFECTS  ON  INDUSTRY    199 

now  as  it  was  then.  Considered  in  his  most  fa- 
vorable light,  the  convict  is  a  scourge  to  himself, 
a  menace  to  society  and  a  burden  to  industry, 
and  whatever  system  of  convict  labor  may  be 
tried,  it  will  ultimately  fail  of  its  purpose  at 
reformation  of  the  criminal  or  the  relief  of  in- 
dustry as  long  as  thousands  of  ^^free  laborers '', 
who  have  committed  no  crime,  are  unable  to  get 
work  and  make  an  honest  living.  Not  long  ago 
I  visited  a  penitentiary  in  which  a  convict  ex- 
pressed regret  that  his  sentence  was  soon  to  ex- 
pire, where  was  he  to  go  or  what  was  he  to  do? 
And  how  long  before  he  would  be  sentenced  to  a 
longer  term  for  a  greater  crime! 

The  commission  which  investigated  the  matter 
in  Ohio  in  1877  reported  to  the  legislature  as 
follows : 

''The  contract  system  interferes  in  an  undue 
manner  with  the  honest  industry  of  the  state. 
It  has  been  the  cause  of  crippling  the  business  of 
many  of  our  manufacturers;  it  has  been  the 
cause  of  driving  many  of  them  out  of  business; 
it  has  been  the  cause  of  a  large  percentage  of 
reductions  which  have  taken  place  in  the  wages 
of  our  mechanics ;  it  has  been  the  cause  of  pauper- 
izing a  large  portion  of  our  laborers  and  in  in- 
creasing crime  in  a  corresponding  degree ;  it  has 
been  no  benefit  to  the  state;  as  a  reformatory 
measure  it  has  been  a  complete,  total  and  mis- 
erable failure;  it  has  hardened  more  criminals 
than  any  other  cause;  it  has  made  total  wrecks 


200  WALLS   AND   BAKS 

morally  of  thousands  and  thousands  who  would 
have  been  reclaimed  from  the  paths  of  vice  and 
crime  under  a  proper  system  of  prison  manage- 
ment, but  who  have  resigned  their  fate  to  a  life 
of  hopeless  degradation ;  it  has  not  a  single  com- 
mendable feature.  Its  tendency  is  pernicious  in 
the  extreme.  In  short,  it  is  an  insurmountable 
barrier  in  the  way  of  the  reformation  of  the  un- 
fortunates who  are  compelled  to  live  and  labor 
under  its  evil  influences ;  it  enables  a  class  of  men 
to  get  rich  out  of  the  crimes  committed  by  others ; 
it  leaves  upon  the  fair  escutcheon  of  the  state  a  ' 
relic  of  the  very  worst  form  of  human  slavery; 
it  is  a  bone  of  ceaseless  contention  between  the 
state  and  its  mechanical  and  industrial  interests ; 
it  is  abhorred  by  all  and  respected  by  none  ex- 
cept those,  perhaps,  who  make  profit  and  gain 
out  of  it.  It  should  be  tolerated  no  longer  but 
abolished  at  once.*' 

And  yet  this  same  system  is  still  in  effect  in 
many  of  the  states  in  the  Union.  The  most  re- 
volting outrages  have  been  perpetrated  upon 
prison  laborers  under  this  diabolical  system. 
Read  the  official  reports  and  stand  aghast  at  the 
atrocities  committed  against  these  morally  de- 
formed and  perverted  human  creatures,  your 
brothers  and  my  brothers,  for  the  private  profit 
of  capitalistic  exploiters  and  the  advancement  of 
Christian  civilization. 

What  a  commentary  on  the  capitalistic  com- 
petitive system!     First,    men    are    forced  into 


PRISON  LABOR,  ITS  EFFECTS  ON  INDUSTRY   201 

idleness.  Gradually  they  are  driven  to  the  ex- 
tremity of  begging  or  stealing.  Having  still  a 
spark  of  pride  and  self-respect  they  steal  and 
are  sent  to  jail.  The  first  sentence  seals  their 
doom.  The  brand  of  Cain  is  upon  them.  They 
are  identified  with  the  criminal  class.  Society, 
whose  victims  they  are,  has  exiled  them  forever, 
and  with  this  curse  ringing  in  their  ears  they 
proceed  on  their  downward  career,  sounding 
every  note  in  the  scale  of  depravity  until  at  last, 
having  graduated  in  crime  all  the  way  from  petit 
larceny  to  homicide,  their  last  despairing  sigh 
is  wrung  from  them  by  the  hangman's  halter. 
From  first  to  last  these  unfortunptes,  the  victims 
of  social  malformation,  are  made  the  subject  of 
speculation  and  traffic.  The  barbed  iron  of  the 
prison  contractor  is  plunged  into  their  quivering 
hearts  that  their  torture  may  be  coined  into 
private  profit  for  their  exploiters. 

In  the  investigation  in  South  Carolina,  where 
the  convicts  have  been  leased  to  railroad  com- 
panies the  most  startling  disclosures  were  made. 
Out  of  285  prisoners  employed  by  one  company, 
128,  or  more  than  40  per  cent,  died  as  the  result, 
largely,  of  brutal  treatment. 

It  is  popular  to  say  that  society  must  be  pro- 
tected against  its  criminals.  I  prefer  to  believe 
that  criminals  should  be  protected  against  so- 
ciety, at  least  while  we  live  under  a  system  that 
makes  the  commission  of  crime  necessary  to  se- 
cure employment. 


202  WALLS   AND   BARS 

The  Tennessee  tragedy  is  still  fresh  in  the  pub- 
lic memory.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  the  convicts, 
themselves  brutally  treated,  were  used  as  a 
means  of  dragging  the  whole  mine-working  class 
down  to  their  crime-cursed  condition.  The  Ten- 
nessee Coal  and  Iron  Company  leased  the  con- 
victs for  the  express  purpose  of  forcing  the 
wages  of  miners  down  to  the  point  of  subsistence. 
Says  the  official  report :  ^  ^  The  miners  were  com- 
pelled to  work  in  competition  with  low-priced 
convict  labor,  the  presence  of  which  was  used  by 
the  company  as  a  scourge  to  force  free  laborers 
to  its  terms''.  Then  the  miners,  locked  out,  their 
families  suffering,  driven  to  desperation,  ap- 
pealed to  force  and  in  a  twinkling  the  laws  of  the 
state  were  trampled  down,  the  authorities  over- 
powered and  defied,  and  almost  five  hundred  con- 
victs set  at  liberty. 

Fortunately  the  system  of  leasing  and  con- 
tracting prison  labor  for  private  exploitation  is 
being  exposed  and  its  frightful  iniquities  laid 
bare.  Thanks  to  organized  labor  and  to  the  spirit 
of  prison  reform,  this  horrifying  phase  of  the 
evil  is  doomed  to  disappear  before  an  enlightened 
public  sentiment. 

The  public  account  system,  though  subject  to 
serious  criticism,  is  far  less  objectionable  than 
either  the  lease,  the  contract  or  the  piece  price 
system.  At  least  the  prisoner's  infirmities  cease 
to  be  the  prey  of  speculative  greed  and  con- 
scienceless rapacity. 


PEISON  LAKOE^  ITS  EFFECTS  ON  IXDUSTEY    203 

Tte  system  of  manufacturmg  for  the  use  of 
state,  county  and  municipal  institutions,  adopted 
by  the  State  of  New  York,  is  an  improvement 
upon  those  hitherto  in  effect,  but  it  is  certain  to 
develop  serious  objections  in  course  of  time. 
AYith  the  use  of  modem  machinery  the  limited  de- 
mand will  soon  be  supplied  and  then  what?  It 
may  be  in  order  to  suggest  that  the  prisoners 
could  be  employed  in  making  shoes  and  clothes 
for  the  destitute  poor  and  school  books  for  their 
children  and  many  other  articles  which  the  poor 
sorely  need  but  are  unable  to  buy. 

Developing  along  this  line  it  will  be  only  a 
question  of  time  until  the  state  would  be  manu- 
facturing all  things  for  the  use  of  the  people,  and 
then  jDerhaps  the  inquiry  would  be  pertinent:  If 
the  state  can  give  men  steady  employment  after 
they  commit  crime,  and  manufacturing  can  be 
carried  forward  successfully  by  their  labor,  why 
can  it  not  give  them  employment  before  they  are 
driven  to  that  extremity,  thereby  preventing 
them  from  becoming  criminals? 

All  useful  labor  is  honest  labor,  even  if  per- 
formed in  a  prison.  Only  the  labor  of  exploiters, 
such  as  speculators,  stock-gamblers,  beef-embalm- 
ers  and  their  mercenary  politicians,  lawyers  and 
other  parasites — only  such  is  dishonest  labor.  A 
thief  making  shoes  in  a  penitentiary  is  engaged 
in  more  useful  and  therefore  more  honest  labor 
than  a  *^free''  stonemason  at  work  on  a  palace 
whose   foundations  are  laid  in  the   skulls    and 


204  WALLS   AND   BARS 

bones,  and  cemented  in  the  sweat  and  blood  of 
ten  thousand  victims  of  capitalistic  exploitation. 
In  both  cases  the  labor  is  compulsory.  The  stone- 
mason would  not  work  for  the  trust-magnate 
were  he  not  compelled  to. 

In  ancient  times  only  slaves  labored.  And  as 
a  matter  of  fact  only  slaves  labor  now.  The  mil- 
lions are  made  by  the  magic  of  manipulation. 
The  coal  miners  of  West  Virginia,  Pennsylvania, 
Ohio,  Indiana  and  Illinois  receive  an  average 
wage  of  less  than  seventy-five  cents  a  day.  They 
perform  the  most  useful  and  necessary  labor, 
without  which  your  homes,  if  possible  at  all, 
would  be  cheerless  as  caves  and  the  great  heart 
of  industry  would  cease  to  throb.  Are  they  free 
men,  or  are  they  slaves?  And  what  is  the  effect 
of  their  labor  on  trade  and  industry  and  upon 
themselves  and  their  families?  Dante  would 
search  the  realms  of  inferno  in  vain  for  such  pic- 
tures of  horror  and  despair  as  are  to  be  found 
in  the  mine  regions  of  free  America. 

To  the  student  of  social  science  the  haggard 
fact  stands  forth  that  under  the  competitive  sys- 
tem of  production  and  distribution  the  prison 
problem  will  never  be  solved — and  its  effect  upon 
trade  and  industry  will  never  be  greatly  modified. 
The  fact  will  remain  that  whatever  labor  is  per- 
formed by  prison  labor  could  and  should  be  per- 
formed by  free  labor,  and  when  in  the  marcM 
of  economic  progress  the  capitalist  system  of  in- 
dustry for  private  profit  succumbs  to  the  socialist 


/ 


PRISON  LAROR,  ITS  EFFECTS  ON  INDUSTRY    205 

system  of  industry  for  human  happiness,  when 
the  factory,  which  is  now  a  penitentiary  crowded 
with  life  convicts,  among  whom  children  often 
constitute  the  majority — when  this  factory  is 
transformed  into  a  temple  of  science,  and  the  ma- 
chine, myriad-armed  and  tireless,  is  the  only 
slave,  there  will  be  no  prison  labor  and  the  prob- 
lem will  cease  to  vex  the  world,  and  to  this  it  is 
coming  in  obedience  to  the  economic  law,  as  un- 
erring in  its  operation  as  the  law  of  gravitation. 

That  prison  labor,  especially  under  the  various 
forms  of  the  contract  system,  is  demoralizing  in 
its  effect  on  trade  and  industry  whenever  and 
wherever  brought  into  competition  with  outside 
labor  is,  of  course,  conceded ;  but  that  it  has  been, 
or  is  at  present,  an  especially  effective  factor  in 
such  demoralization  is  not  here  admitted.  There 
is  a  tendency  to  exaggerate  the  blighting  effect  of 
prison  labor  for  the  purpose  of  obscuring  the  one 
overshadowing  cause  of  demoralized  trade  and 
impoverished  industry. 

Prison  labor  did  not  reduce  the  miner  to  a 
walking  hungerpang,  his  wife  to  a  tear-stained 
rag,  and  his  home  to  a  lair.  Prison  labor  is  not 
responsible  for  the  squares  of  squalor  and  the 
miles  of  misery  in  New  York,  Chicago  and  all 
other  centers  of  population.  Prison  labor  is  not 
chargeable  with  the  sweating  dens  in  which  the 
victims  of  capitalistic  competition  crouch  in  dread 
and  fear  until  death  comes  to  their  rescue. 
Prison   labor  had   no   hand   in   Coeur   d'Alene, 


206  WALLS  AND   BAES 

Tennesee,  Homestead,  Hazelton,  Virdin,  Pana, 
that  suburb  of  hell  called  Pullman  and  other  en- 
sanguined battlefields  where  thousands  of  work- 
ingmen  after  being  oppressed  and  robbed  were  im- 
prisoned like  felons,  and  shot  down  like  vaga- 
bond dogs;  where  venal  judges  issued  infamous 
injunctions  and  despotic  orders  at  the  behest  of 
their  masters,  enforcing  them  with  deputy  mar- 
shals armed  with  pistols  and  clubs  and  supported 
by  troops  with  gleaming  bayonets  and  shotted 
guns  to  drain  the  veins  of  workingmen  of  blood, 
but  for  whose  labor  this  continent  would  still  be 
a  wilderness.  Only  the  tortures  of  hunger  and 
nakedness  provoked  protest,  and  this  was  silenced 
by  the  bayonet  and  bullet;  by  the  club  and  the 
blood  that  followed  the  blow. 

Prison  labor  is  not  accountable  for  the  appall- 
ing increase  in  insanity,  in  suicide,  in  murder,  in 
prostitution  and  a  thousand  other  forms  of  vice 
and  crime  which  pollute  every  fountain  and  con- 
taminate every  stream  designed  to  bless  the 
world. 

Prison  labor  did  not  create  our  army  of  unem- 
ployed, but  has  been  recruited  from  its  ranks, 
and  both  owe  their  existence  to  the  same  social 
and  economic  system. 

Nor  are  the  evil  effects  confined  exclusively 
to  the  poor  working  class.  There  is  an  aspect  of 
the  case  in  which  the  rich  are  as  unfortunate  as 
the  poor.  The  destiny  of  the  capitalist  class  is 
irrevocably  linked  with  the  working  class.  Fichte, 


PEISON  lAEOE,  ITS  EFFECTS  ON  Iin)T7STEY        207 

the  great  German  philosopher,  said,  '*  Wickedness 
increases  in  proportion  to  the  elevation  of  rank". 

Prison  labor  is  but  one  of  the  manifestations 
of  our  economic  development  and  indicates  its 
trend.  The  same  cause  that  demoralized  indus-. 
try  has  crowded  our  prisons.  Industry  has  not 
been  impoverished  by  prison  labor,  but  prison 
labor  is  the  result  of  impoverished  industry. 
The  limited  time  at  my  command  will  not  permit 
an  analysis  of  the  process. 

The  real  question  which  confronts  us  is  our 
industrial  system  and  its  effects  upon  labor.  One 
of  these  effects  is,  as  I  have  intimated,  prison 
labor.  What  is  its  cause?  T\Tiat  makes  it  nec- 
essary? The  answer  is,  the  competitive  system, 
which  creates  wage-slavery,  throws  thousands  out 
of  employment  and  reduces  the  wages  of  thou- 
sands more  to  the  point  of  bare  subsistence. 

Why  is  prison  labor  preferred  to  **free  la- 
bor?" Simply  because  it  is  cheaper;  it  yields 
more  profit  to  the  man  who  buys,  exploits  and 
sells  it.  But  this  has  its  limitations.  Capitalist 
competition  that  throngs  the  streets  with  idle 
workers,  capitalist  production  that  reduces  hu- 
man labor  to  a  commodity  and  ultimately  to 
crime — this  system  produces  another  kind  of 
prison  labor  in  the  form  of  child  labor  which  is 
being  utilized  more  and  more  to  complete  the 
subjugation  of  the  working  class.  There  is  this 
difference:  The  prison  laborers  are  clothed  and 
housed  and  fed.    The  child  laborers  whose  wage 


208  WALLS   AND   BAES 

is  a  dollar  a  week,  or  even  less,  must  take  care  of 
themselves. 

Prison  labor  is  preferred  because  it  is  cheap. 
So  with  child  labor.  It  is  not  a  question  of  prison 
labor,  or  child  labor,  but  of  cheap  labor. 

Tenement-house  labor  is  another  form  of 
prison  labor. 

The  effects  of  cheap  labor  on  trade  and  indus- 
try must  be  the  same,  whether  such  labor  is  done 
by  prisoners,  tenement  house  slaves,  children  or 
starving  ** hoboes''. 

The  prison  laborer  produces  by  machinery  in 
abundance  but  does  not  consume.  The  child  like- 
wise produces,  but  owing  to  its  small  wages,  does 
not  consume.  So  with  the  vast  army  of  workers 
whose  wage  grows  smaller  as  the  productive  ca- 
pacity of  labor  increases,  and  then  society  is  af- 
flicted with  overproduction,  the  result  of  under- 
consumption. What  follows?  The  panic.  Fac- 
tories close  down,  wage-workers  are  idle  and 
suffer,  middle-class  business  men  are  forced  into 
bankruptcy,  the  army  of  tramps  is  increased, 
vice  and  crime  are  rampant  and  prisons  and 
work-houses  are  filled  to  overflowing  as  are  sew- 
ers when  the  streets  of  cities  are  deluged  with 
floods. 

Prison  labor,  like  all  cheap  labor,  is  at  first  a 
source  of  profit  to  the  capitalist,  but  finally  it 
turns  into  a  two-edged  sword  that  cuts  into  and 
destroys  the  system  that  produces  it. 

First,  the  capitalist  pocket  is  filled  by  the  em- 


PEISON  LAKOE,  ITS  EFFECTS  ON  INDUSTRY         209 

ployment  of  cheap  labor — and  then  the  bottom 
drops  out  of  it. 

In  the  cheapening  process,  the  pauperized  mass 
have  lost  their  consuming  power. 

The  case  may  now  be  summed  up  as  follows: 

First.  Prison  labor  is  bad ;  it  has  a  demoraliz- 
ing effect  on  capitalist  trade  and  industry. 

Second.  Child  labor,  tenement  house  and  every 
other  form  of  cheap  labor  is  bad;  it  is  destruc- 
tive of  trade  and  industry. 

Third.  Capitalist  competition  is  bad;  it  cre- 
ates a  demand  for  cheap  labor. 

Fourth.  Capitalist  production  is  bad;  it  cre- 
ates millionaires  and  mendicants,  economic  mas- 
ters and  slaves,  thus  intensifying  the  class  strug- 
gle. 

This  indicates  that  the  present  capitalist  sys- 
tem has  outlived  its  usefulness,  and  that  it  is  in 
the  throes  of  dissolution.  Capitalism  is  but  a 
link  in  the  chain  of  social  and  economic  develop- 
ment. Just  as  feudalism  developed  capitalism 
and  then  disappeared,  so  capitalism  is  now  de- 
veloping socialism,  and  when  the  new  social  sys- 
tem has  been  completely  evolved  the  last  vestige 
of  capitalism  will  fade  into  history. 

The  gigantic  trust  marks  the  change  in  produc- 
tion. It  is  no  longer  competitive  but  co-opera- 
tive. The  same  mode  of  distribution,  which  must 
inevitably  follow,  will  complete  the  process. 

Co-operative  labor  will  be  the  basis  of  the  new 
social  system,  and  this  wiU  be  for  use  and  not 


210  WALLS   AND   BAES 

for  profit.  Labor  will  no  longer  be  bought  and 
sold.  Industrial  slavery  will  cease.  For  every 
man  there  will  be  the  equal  right  to  work  with 
every  other  man  and  each  will  receive  the  fruit 
of  his  labor.  Then  we  shall  have  economic  equal- 
ity. Involuntary  idleness  will  be  a  horror  of  the 
past.  Poverty  will  relax  its  grasp.  The  army 
of  tramps  will  be  disbanded  because  the  prolific 
womb  which  now  warms  these  unfortunates  into 
life  will  become  barren.  Prisons  will  be  depopu- 
lated and  the  prison  labor  problem  will  be  solved. 

Each  labor-saving  machine  will  lighten  the  bur- 
den and  decrease  the  hours  of  toil.  The  soul  will 
no  longer  be  subordinated  to  the  stomach.  Man 
will  live  a  complete  life,  and  the  march  will  then 
begin  to  an  ideal  civilization. 

There  is  another  proverb  which  the  Latin  race 
sent  ringing  down  the  centuries  which  reads, 
^^ Omnia  vincit  amor'',  or  ^^Love  conquers  all 
things".  Love  and  labor  in  alliance,  working 
together,  have  transforming,  redeeming  and 
emancipating  power.  Under  their  benign  sway 
the  world  can  be  made  better  and  brighter. 

Isaiah  saw  in  prophetic  vision  a  time  when  na- 
tions should  war  no  more — when  swords  should 
be  transformed  into  plowshares  and  spears  into 
pruning  hooks.  The  fulfillment  of  the  prophecy 
only  awaits  an  era  when  Love  and  Labor,  in  holy 
alliance,  shall  solve  the  economic  problem. 

Here,  on  this  occasion,  in  this  great  metropolis 
with  its  thousand  spires    pointing   heavenward, 


PEISON  LAEOE,  ITS  EFFECTS  ON  INDUSTKY   211 

where  opulence  riots  in  luxury  which  challenges 
hyperbole,  and  poverty  rots  in  sweatshops  which 
only  a  Shakespeare  or  a  Victor  Hugo  could  de- 
scribe, and  the  transfer  to  canvas  would  palsy 
the  hand  of  a  Michael  Angelo — here,  where 
wealth  and  want  and  woe  bear  irrefutable  testi- 
mony of  deplorable  conditions,  I  stand  as  a  so- 
cialist, protesting  against  the  wrongs  perpetrated 
upon  Les  Miserables,  and  pleading  as  best  I  can 
for  a  higher  civilization. 

The  army  of  begging  Lazaruses,  with  the  dogs 
licking  their  sores  at  the  gates  of  palaces,  where 
the  rich  are  clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  with 
their  tables  groaning  beneath  the  luxuries  of  all 
climes,  make  the  palaces  on  the  highlands  where 
fashion  holds  sway  and  music  lends  its  charms, 
a  picture  in  the  landscape  which,  in  illustrating 
disparity,  brings  into  bolder  relief  the  hut  and 
the  hovel  in  the  hollow  where  want,  gaunt  and 
haggard,  sits  at  the  door  and  where  light  and 
plenty,  cheerfulness  and  hope  are  forever  exiled 
by  the  despotic  decree  of  conditions  as  ciael  as 
when  the  Czar  of  Eussia  orders  to  his  penal 
mines  in  Siberia  the  hapless  subjects  who  dare 
whisper  the  sacred  word  liberty — as  cruel  as 
when  this  boasted  land  of  freedom  commands  that 
a  far-away,  innocent  people  shall  be  shot  down 
in  jungle  and  lagoon,  in  their  bamboo  huts,  be- 
cause they  dream  of  freedom  and  independence. 

These  conditions  are  as  fruitful  of  danger  to 
the  opulent  as  they  are    of    degradation    to  the 


212  WALLS   AND   BARS 

poor.  It  is  neither  folly  nor  fanaticism  to  assert 
that  the  country  cannot  exist  under  such  condi- 
tions. The  higher  law  of  righteousness,  of  love 
and  labor  will  prevail.  It  is  a  law  which  com- 
mends itself  to  reasoning  men,  a  primal  law  en- 
acted long  before  Jehovah  wrote  the  decalog 
amidst  the  thunders  and  lightnings  of  Sinai.  It 
is  a  law  written  upon  the  tablets  of  every  man's 
heart  and  conscience.  It  is  a  law  infinitely  above 
the  creeds  and  dogmas  and  tangled  disquisitions 
of  the  churches — the  one  law  which  in  its  opera- 
tions will  level  humanity  upward  until  men,  re- 
deemed from  greed  and  every  debasing  ambition, 
shall  obey  its  mandates  and  glory  in  its  triumph. 
Love  and  labor  will  give  us  the  Socialist  Ee- 
public — the  Industrial  Democracy — the  equal 
rights  of  all  men  and  women,  and  the  emancipa- 
tion of  all  from  the  cruel  and  debasing  thraldoms 
of  past  centuries. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Studies  Behind  Pkison  Walls. 

(Reproduced  from  the  Century  Magazine  for 
July,  1922,  by  Courtesy  of  Its  Publishers.) 
The  prison  has  a  place  peculiarly  and  entirely 
its  own  among  the  institutions  of  human  society. 
It  is  there  that  the  human  being  is  detached  from 
his  former  associations  and  isolated  under  rigor- 
ous discipline  to  expiate  his  alleged  offence 
against  society.  It  is  the  one  place  to  which 
men  go  only  under  compulsion  and  in  humiliation 
and  shame. 

When  I  was  a  boy  the  very  word  penitentiary 
had  a  shocking  effect  upon  my  sensibilities,  and 
of  course  I  did  not  dream  that  I  would  ever  serve 
a  sentence  as  a  convicted  felon  within  its  walls. 
I  had  never  seen  a  penitentiary,  but  I  had  seen 
the  filthy  county  jail  in  the  town  in  which  I 
lived,  and  through  its  barred  windows  I  saw  the 
imprisoned  victims  and  heard  their  foul  and 
damning  imprecations. 

This  gave  me  some  idea  of  what  the  peniten- 
tiary must  be  like  and  I  wondered  even  then  if 
it  were  not  possible  to  deal  with  our  erring  fel- 
low men  in  a  more  humane  way  than  by  commit- 
ting them  into  foul  dungeons  and  treating  them 
as  if  they  were  beasts  instead  of  human  beings. 


214  WALLS   AND   BARS 

Later  in  life  when  I  had  become  active  in  the 
labor  movement  and  had  a  part  in  the  strikes  and 
other  disturbances  of  organized  workers,  in  the 
course  of  which  the  leaders  were  not  infrequent- 
ly arrested  and  sent  to  jail,  I  came  to  realize  that 
the  prison  could  be  used  for  purposes  other  than 
confining  the  criminal;  used  as  a  club  to  intimi-. 
date  working  men  and  women  after  their  leaders 
had  already  been  incarcerated ;  used  as  a  silencer 
upon  any  expression  of  opinion  that  might  not 
happen  to  be  in  accord  with  the  administrative 
power. 

So,  I  understood  from  the  beginning  that  all 
men  who  were  sent  to  jails  and  penitentiaries 
were  not  criminals ;  indeed,  I  have  often  had  cause 
to  think  that  the  time  may  come  in  the  life  of  any 
man  when  he  would  consider  it  necessary  to  go 
to  prison  if  he  would  be  true  to  the  integrity  of 
his  own  soul,  and  loyal  to  his  inherent,  God-given 
sovereignty  as  a  human  being.  Such  thoughts 
would  come  to  me  after  my  many  visits  to  jails 
and  penitentiaries  to  call  upon  friends  and  asso- 
ciates in  the  labor  struggle  incarcerated  there. 

It  was  in  the  railroad  strike  of  1877  that  I  had 
my  first  experience  in  seeing  my  associates  in  the 
railroad  union  sent  to  jail,  and  I  began  to  realize 
that  if  I  continued  my  activity  I  might  some  day 
go  there  myself.  Less  than  twenty  years  later 
I  had  my  first  interior  view  of  the  jail  as  an  in- 
mate, and  this  experience  awakened  in  me  a  keen 
interest  in  the  prison  and  its  victims.    The  penal 


STUDIES    BEHIND    PRISON    WALLS  2l5 

question  has  been  to  me  an  absorbing  study  ever 
since. 

The  notorious  old  Cook  County  jail  in  Chicago, 
for  years  the  choicest  picking  for  grafting  poli- 
ticians, reeking  with  vermin  and  infested  with 
sewer  rats,  comes  vividly  to  memory  as  these  lines 
are  written.  It  was  there  that  I  was  initiated 
into  the  moralities  and  mysteries  of  prison  life. 
I  saw  at  a  glance  what  that  filthy  pen  meant  to 
the  unfortunate  creatures  confined  there,  and  at 
once  my  sympathy  was  quickened,  and  I  felt  my- 
self drawn  to  them  by  a  fellow  feeling  which  grew 
stronger  with  the  passing  years. 

Soon  afterward  I  was  sentenced  to  the  Mc- 
Henry  County  jail  in  Woodstock,  Illinois,  to  serve 
a  term  of  six  months  upon  the  charge  of  con- 
tempt of  court  for  the  violation  of  an  injunction 
issued  by  the  federal  court  during  the  great  Pull- 
man strike  in  1894.  I  had  pleaded  in  vain  for 
a  jury  trial. 

Fortunately  for  me  and  my  convicted  asso- 
ciates of  the  American  Kailway  Union,  the  filthy 
Cook  County  jail  was  over  populated  at  the  time 
we  were  sentenced,  in  consequence  of  which  we 
were  transferred  to  the  county  jail  in  Woodstock. 
The  farmers  in  that  vicinity  did  not  relish  the 
idea  of  my  being  ''boarded''  among  them  even 
as  an  inmate  of  their  jail.  They  had  been  read- 
ing the  daily  newspapers  and  had  concluded  that 
I  was  too  dangerous  a  criminal  to  be  permitted  to 
enter  the  county,  and  it  was  reported  that  they 


216  WALLS   AND   BARS 

would  gather  in  numbers  at  the  station  on  my 
arrival  and  attempt  to  lynch  me,  or  at  least  pre- 
vent me  from  disembarking.  When  we  arrived 
at  Woodstock  a  number  of  them  were  at  the  sta- 
tion, but  they  had  evidently  been  advised  against 
carrying  out  their  enthusiastic  program  for  they 
made  no  hostile  demonstration. 

The  jail  at  Woodstock  was  a  small  affair  and 
clean  for  a  county  lock-up.  I  soon  had  a  satis- 
factory understanding  with  the  sheriff,  a  veteran 
of  the  civil  war,  and  got  along  without  the  least 
trouble.  During  the  latter  period  of  my  term  I 
conducted  an  evening  school  for  the  benefit  of 
the  prisoners,  and  on  my  leaving  they  presented 
me  with  a  set  of  resolutions  expressive  of  their 
gratitude  which  is  still  a  cherished  testimonial  in 
my  possession. 

Some  years  later  when  I  was  touring  the  coun- 
try as  a  presidential  candidate  I  made  a  special 
visit  to  Woodstock  and  received  a  great  ovation 
from  the  visiting  farmers  and  the  townspeople, 
among  whom  was  the  sheriff  who  had  been  my 
jailer  and  had  become  my  friend.  On  another  oc^ 
casion  I  was  invited  there  to  address  a  meeting 
at  the  City  Hall,  the  daughter  of  the  sheriff,  head 
of  the  Eelief  Corps  of  the  G.  A.  E.,  having  charge 
of  the  arrangements. 

Almost  twenty-five  years  passed  before  I  had 
my  next  prison  experience.  The  world  war  was 
in  progress  and  the  excitement  was  intense.  I 
had  my  own  views  in  regard  to  the  war,  and  I 


STUDIES   BEHIND   PRISON    WALLS  217 

knew  in  advance  that  an  expression  of  what  was 
in  my  heart  would  invite  a  prison  sentence  under 
the  Espionage  Law.  I  took  my  stand  in  accord- 
ance with  the  dictates  of  my  conscience,  and  was 
prepared  to  accept  the  consequences  without  com- 
plaint. The  choice  was  deliberately  made,  and 
there  has  never  since  been  a  moment  of  regret. 
It  was  not  because  I  yearned  for  imprisonment 
that  I  took  the  position  that  human  beings  had 
a  higher  call  and  a  nobler  purpose  in  life  than 
slaughtering  each  other  and  hating  those  they 
could  not  kill,  but  simply  because  I  could  take  no 
other,  although  realizing  fully  that  the  choice  led 
through  prison  gates. 

A  sentence  of  ten  years  followed  my  trial  at 
Cleveland  in  which  I  permitted  no  witnesses  to 
testify  in  my  behalf  and  no  defense  to  be  made. 
When  the  government's  attorneys  were  satisfied 
that  they  had  concluded  their  case  against  me,  I 
addressed  the  jury,  not  as  a  matter  of  defense 
of  the  speech  that  had  resulted  in  my  arrest,  trial 
and  conviction,  but  in  an  attempt  to  amplify  and 
supplement  it  so  that  there  could  be  no  possible 
mistake  as  to  my  beliefs  and  opinions  with  re- 
spect to  the  subject  in  controversy.  It  was  an 
unusual  and  surprising  proceeding  in  a  court- 
room. I  was  entirely  prepared  to  receive  the 
sentence  of  ten  years  pronounced  by  the  judge.  I 
had  stood  upon  my  constitutional  right  of  free 
speech,  and  in  this  attitude  I  had  the  sanction 


218  WALLS   AND   BAKS 

and  support  of  tens  of  thousands  of  people  who 
had  no  sympathy  with  my  political  views. 

On  the  evening  of  April  13,  1919,  I  was  deliv- 
ered by  United  States  Marshal  Lap  and  his 
deputies  of  Cleveland  to  Warden  Joseph  Z.  Ter- 
rell, of  the  West  Virginia  State  Penitentiary  at 
Moundsville  to  enter  upon  my  sentence.  I  was 
permitted  to  serve  but  two  months  at  Mounds- 
ville when  the  order  came  from  Washington  for 
my  transfer  to  Atlanta  Federal  Prison.  My 
brief  sojourn  at  Moundsville  was  entirely  satis- 
factory as  a  prison  experience,  for  after  my  ar- 
rival there  I  was  introduced  to  the  various  offi- 
cials and  came  into  intimate  and  pleasant  con- 
tact with  all  the  prisoners. 

These  experiences  were  preliminary  to  my  ad- 
venture at  the  United  States  Penitentiary  in  At- 
lanta, where  I  was  taken  on  June  14,  1919,  and 
served  as  an  inmate  until  Christmas  Day,  1921. 

With  this  introductory  sketch  I  shall  now  en- 
ter upon  the  story  of  my  actual  prison  life  and 
my  study  of  the  prison  as  an  institution,  the  in- 
mates confined  there,  the  rules  and  conditions 
under  which  they  serve  their  terms,  and  the  effect 
of  their  prison  experience  upon  their  subsequent 
lives. 

Personally,  I  feel  amply  rewarded  for  the  op- 
portunity that  was  given  me  to  see  and  know  the 
prison  as  it  is,  for  while  I  was  a  prisoner  at  At- 
lanta I  learned  more  of  a  vital  nature  to  me  than 
could  have  been  taught  me  in  any  similar  period 


STUDIES   BEHIND   PKISON   WALLS  219 

in  the  classroom  of  any  -university. 

A  prison  is  a  wonderful  place  in  the  opportun- 
ity afforded  not  only  to  study  human  nature  in 
the  abstract,  to  examine  the  causes  and  currents 
of  motives  and  impulses,  but  also  to  see  yourself 
reflected  in  the  caricatures  of  your  fellow  men. 
It  is  also  the  one  place,  above  all  others,  where 
one  comprehends  the  measureless  extent  of  man^s 
inhumanity  to  man. 

I  hate,  I  abominate  the  prison  as  it  exists  today 
as  the  most  loathsome  and  debasing  of  human 
institutions. 

Most  prisons  are  physically  as  well  as  morally 
tmclean.  All  of  them  are  governed  by  rules  and 
maintained  under  conditions  which  fit  them  as 
breeding  places  for  the  iniquities  which  they  are 
supposed  to  abate  and  stamp  out. 

When  I  entered  the  Atlanta  Prison  it  was  on  a 
common  footing  with  all  the  rest  of  the  prisoners. 
I  expected  no  favors  and  would  accept  no  privi- 
leges that  were  denied  to  others.  From  the  mo- 
ment I  entered  there  I  felt  that  I  was  among 
friends,  for  the  prisoners  accorded  me  an  en- 
thusiastic welcome  which  I  knew  was  genuine  on 
their  part.  I  at  once  made  up  my  mind  that  it 
would  be  my  constant  endeavor  to  serve  these 
fellow  prisoners  of  mine  in  every  way  that  I  could 
and  at  every  opportunity  that  presented  itself.  I 
was  not  there  long  before  I  realized  that  my  at- 
titude toward  the  convicts  was  understood  by 
them  and  reciprocated  in  ways  that  shall  always 


220  WALLS   AND    BAES 

remain  in  my  memory  in  tender  testimony  of  the 
human  fellowship  that  can  blossom  even  in  a 
prison  if  nourished  by  kindness  of  heart. 

When  I  was  put  into  a  second-hand  prison  suit 
of  blue  denim  I  felt  myself  one  with  every  pris- 
oner in  Atlanta.  During  the  first  two  months  I 
was  placed  in  a  cell  which  was  already  inhabited 
by  ^ve  other  convicts,  and  these  inmates  did 
everything  that  human  beings  could  possibly  do 
to  make  me  comfortable  and  my  stay  a  pleasant 
one.  They  were  constantly  seeking  ways  and 
means  to  share  with  me  whatever  they  had,  and 
from  these  simple  souls  I  learned  something 
about  unselfishness,  and  thoughtfulness,  and  re- 
spect for  another's  feelings^ — qualities  that  are 
not  too  common  in  the  outer  world  where  men 
are  more  or  less  free  to  practice  them  without 
being  watched  by  brutal  guards  with  clubs  in 
their  hands  eager  to  proclaim  their  authority 
with  the  might  of  the  bludgeon. 

We  sat  side  by  side  and  ate  the  same  wretched 
food  together,  and  after  our  evening  meal  in  the 
general  mess  we  spent  fourteen  consecutive  hours 
together  locked  in  a  steel  cage.  I  found  my  cell- 
mates to  be  just  as  humane  as  any  men  I  had 
ever  met  in  the  outer  world. 

I  have  heard  people  refer  to  the  *^  convict  coun- 
tenance". I  never  saw  one.  The  rarest  of  hu- 
man beings,  the  most  cultured  and  refined 
amongst  us  might  in  time  become  brutal  by  the 
blighting  and  brutalizing  influence  of  the  prison 


STUDIES   BEHIND  PEISON   WALLS  221 

if  they  should  permit  themselves  to  yield  their 
spirit  to  the  degrading  and  debasing  atmosphere 
that  permeates  every  penitentiary  in  the  land. 

By  far  the  most  of  my  fellow  prisoners  were 
poor  and  uneducated  men  who  never  had  a  decent 
chance  in  life  to  cultivate  the  higher  arts  of  hu- 
manity, but  never  in  all  the  time  I  spent  among 
those  more  than  2,000  convicts  did  one  of  them 
give  me  an  unkind  word. 

There  is  infinite  power  in  human  kindness. 
Every  one  of  those  convicts  without  a  single  ex- 
ception responded  in  kindness  to  the  touch  of 
kindness.  I  made  it  my  especial  duty  to  seek 
out  those  who  were  regarded  as  the  worst  speci- 
mens, but  I  never  found  one  who  failed  to  treat 
me  as  decently  as  I  treated  him.  My  code  of 
conduct  toward  my  fellow  prisoners  had  the  same 
efficacy  in  prison  that  it  had  elsewhere.  In  deal- 
ing with  human  beings  I  know  no  race,  no  color 
and  no  creed.  At  the  roots  I  think  we  are  all 
alike,  governed  by  similar  impulses  that  have 
more  or  less  the  same  results,  depending  upon 
the  circumstances  in  which  we  find  ourselves 
placed,  and  considering  the  conditions  that  at- 
tend us.  I  judge  not  and  I  try  to  treat  others 
as  I  would  be  treated  by  them. 

But  in  prison  the  human  element  is  sadly  dis- 
counted and  men  are  made  by  cruel  and  senseless 
rules  to  fit  into  the  criminal  conceptions  of  them 
which  prevail  under  the  prison  regime. 

The  prison,  above  all  others,  should  be  the  most 


222  WALLS   AND   BARS 

human  of  institutions.  A  great  majority  of  the 
inmates  are  there  because  of  their  poverty  and 
the  direct  or  indirect  results  of  poverty.  Their 
misfortune  in  life  is  penalized  and  they  are 
branded  as  convicts  for  the  rest  of  their  lives. 

If  an  intelligent  study  could  be  made  of  each 
individual  case  in  a  federal  or  state  prison  and 
the  result  truthfully  placed  before  the  people  the 
nation  would  be  horrified  at  the  cruel  injustice 
which  would  be  revealed.  Most  of  the  victims  of 
prison  injustice  are  without  friends  of  influence 
to  intercede  in  their  behalf,  and  society  in  the 
aggregate  has  no  concern  in  them  whatsoever. 

The  average  prison  is  in  the  control  of  poli- 
ticians who  know  little  and  care  less  about  what 
takes  place  behind  the  walls.  Prison  officials  are 
placed  in  responsible  positions  to  reward  them 
for  their  political  services  and  not  with  reference 
to  either  their  character  or  qualifications  for  the 
office. 

The  warden  and  deputy  warden  of  a  prison 
should  have  exceptional  qualities  to  fit  them  for 
the  discharge  of  their  important  duties,  and  they 
should  be  among  the  most  humane  of  men. 

One  of  the  first  things  I  discovered  in  Atlanta 
prison  was  the  wretched  food  provided  for  the 
prisoners  and  the  disgusting  manner  in  which  it 
was  cooked  and  served.  The  menu  was  confined 
to  a  few  poor  articles  which  palled  upon  the  ap- 
petite and  was  the  source  of  universal  daily  com- 
plaint and  dissatisfaction. 


STUDIES   BEHIND   PRISON    WALLS  223 

Soon  after  I  entered  prison  tlie  question  oc- 
curred to  me :  why  are  men  who  work  here  not  paid 
for  their  labor?  They  are  here  mider  punish- 
ment for  having  stolen  perhaps  a  few  dollars  and 
promptly  upon  their  incarceration  the  government 
or  the  state  jDroceeds  to  rob  them  of  their  daily 
earnings,  compelling  them  to  work  day  after  day 
without  a  cent  of  compensation.  The  service 
which  the  state  exacts  from  a  convict  should  be 
paid  for  at  the  prevailing  rate  of  wages  to  be 
placed  to  his  credit  on  the  books,  or  shared  with 
his  family,  so  that  on  leaving  the  prison  he  would 
not  have  to  face  a  hostile  world  in  a  shoddy  suit 
of  clothes  and  $5.00  in  his  pocket  as  his  sole  capi- 
tal with  which  to  start  life  anew. 

The  clubs  and  guns  in  the  hands  of  guards 
present  a  picture  well  calculated  to  reveal  the 
true  character  of  the  prison  as  a  humanizing  and 
redeeming  institution. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  prison  is  simply  a  re- 
flex of  the  sins  which  society  commits  against 
itself.  The  most  thorough  study  of  prison  in- 
mates that  I  was  able  to  make  in  the  course  of 
my  intimate  daily  and  nightly  contact  with  thou- 
sands of  them  convinced  me  beyond  all  question 
that  they  are  in  all  essential  respects  the  same 
as  the  average  run  of  people  in  the  outer  world. 
I  was  unable  to  discover  the  criminal  type  or  the 
criminal  element  of  which  I  had  heard  and  read 
so  much  before  I  had  the  opportunity  to  make 
my  own  investigation.    That  there  are  moral  and 


/I 


224  WALLS  AND   BARS 

mental  defectives  in  prison  is  of  course  admitted, 
but  the  number  is  not  greater,  nor  are  the  cases 
more  pronounced,  than  may  be  found  outside  of 
prison  walls. 

However,  in  dealing  with  these  imprisoned  and 
helpless  beings  in  the  prevailing  prison  spirit  and 
under  the  omnipresent  iron  clad  regulations,  they 
must  necessarily  be  regarded  as  a  dangerous  and 
vicious  aggregation  in  order  to  justify  the  brutal 
and  corrupt  system  which,  under  the  pretense  of 
reformation,  preys  upon  their  misfortune.  There 
are  many  flagrant  abuses  and  evils  in  the  present 
prison  regime  and  these  have  their  source  and 
incentive  primarily  in  being  in  the  control  of 
politicians  who  wax  fat  out  of  the  misery  of  con- 
victs by  delivering  them,  in  many  states,  to  heart- 
less contractors  who  in  turn  sweat  and  rob  them, 
not  only  of  their  labor  but  of  their  health  and 
very  lives.  The  prison  labor  contractor  is  the 
most  merciless  of  slave-drivers. 

I  have  seen  enough  of  this  shocking  cruelty  to 
forever  damn  the  institution  in  which  such  an 
outrage  upon  unfortunates  is  practiced.  In  the 
matter  of  convict  labor  the  state  virtually  sells 
its  outcast  citizens  into  abject  slavery  so  that 
thieving  contractors,  the  pals  of  politicians  who 
control  the  prison,  may  fatten  upon  the  pro- 
ceeds of  their  crimes  against  so-called  criminals. 

Are  the  vultures  who  thus  prey  upon  the  help- 
less, robed  as  they  are  in  the  soft  raiment  of  re- 
spectability, not  actually  lower  morally  than  the 


STUDIES   BEHIND   PEISON    WALLS  225 

victims  of  their  inliumanity  and  piracy?  And  if 
men  should  be  sent  to  prison  for  robbery,  are 
not  these  official  mercenaries  the  very  creatures 
who,  instead  of  controlling  the  prison,  should 
themselves  be  imder  its  own  brutal  regulations? 

That  the  vicious  and  corrupting  abuses  herein 
set  forth  were  recognized  years  ago  by  men  who 
honestly  attempted  to  correct  them  is  clearly 
stated  in  a  report  to  the  New  York  State  Legis- 
lature issued  more  than  half  a  century  ago  by 
Professor  E.  C.  Wines  and  Professor  Theodore 
W.  Dwight,  then  Commissioners  of  the  Prison  As- 
sociation of  New  York,  from  which  I  quote  as 
follows : 

^^Upon  the  whole  it  is  our  settled  conviction 
that  the  contract  system  of  convict  labor,  added 
to  the  St/stem  of  political  appointments,  which 
necessarily  involves  a  low  grade  of  official  quali- 
fication and  constant  changes  in  the  prison  staff, 
renders  nugatory,  to  a  great  extent,  the  whole 
theory  of  our  penitentiary  system.  Inspection 
may  correct  isolated  abuses;  philanthropy  may 
relieve  isolated  cases  of  distress;  and  religion 
may  effect  isolated  moral  cures;  but  genuine, 
radical,  comprehensive,  systematic  improvement 
is  impossible.^'     (Italics  are  mine). 

As  long  as  the  prison  is  in  control  of  politicians 
and  under  the  supervision  of  their  creatures,  its 
callous  indifference  to  the  inmates,  its  internal 
vices  and  abuses,  and  its  external  reaction  in  fur- 
nishing society  with  a  steady  stream  of  criminals 


226  WATJiS   AND   BARS 

trained  in  its  own  institution  will  continue,  and 
isolated  instances  of  superficial  improvement  will 
not  materially  reduce  the  evil  and  corrupting 
power. 

I  am  not  at  all  inclined  to  exploit  my  personal 
prison  experience  and  should  prefer  to  omit  that 
element  entirely,  were  it  not  necessary  to  the  pur- 
pose of  this  article  to  include  some  reference  to 
it.  It  is  to  be  doubted  if  there  was  ever  before  in 
prison  history  a  case  parallel  to  my  own  in  point 
of  experience  and  results  issuing  therefrom. 

I  had  been  four  times  the  candidate  for  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States  of  the  party  represent- 
ing the  class  toiling  in  penury  and  suffering  from 
whose  ranks  are  recruited,  under  the  lash  of 
poverty  and  misery,  with  but  few  exceptions,  the 
victims  of  penal  misrule.  Since  my  early  boy- 
hood, and  practically  through  my  entire  life,  I 
had  been  in  intimate  association  with  working 
people  and  those  who  are  generally  regarded  as 
the  ** lower  class''.  My  understanding  of  their 
conditions,  my  perception  of  the  basic  social 
causes  that  had  preceded  their  predicament,  and 
my  sympathy  with  them  even  in  their  transgres- 
sions, which  is  usually  the  result  of  their 
wretched  lot,  had  preceded  my  entrance  through 
the  prison  gates. 

The  entire  prison  seemed  to  join  in  the  sym- 
pathetic reception  accorded  me.  The  question 
was  frequently  asked,  sometimes  sneeringly  by 
the  guards,  and  sometimes  in  a  spirit  of  wonder 


STUDIES   BEHIND   PEISON    WALLS  227 

and  admiration,  by  what  magic  I  held  the  interest 
of  my  fellow  prisoners  and  won  their  affection 
and  devotion.  The  answer  is  a  quite  simple  one. 
I  recognized  in  each  of  them  my  brother  and 
treated  him  accordingly.  I  did  not  moralize  or 
patronize  my  fellow  convicts  in  the  least.  Men 
who  are  caged  and  watched,  spied  npon  and 
hunted  like  animals  develop  certain  latent  in- 
stincts that  become  amazingly  keen  and  discern- 
ing. Among  these  is  the  instinct  to  divine  what 
is  in  the  heart  of  those  who  approach  them. 
They  have  been  robbed  of  their  respectability  and 
forever  denied  the  chance  to  regain  it,  and,  sen- 
sitive as  they  surely  are  to  this  circumstance, 
they  are  not  apt  to  be  impressed  by  those  who 
pose  before  them  as  their  moral  superiors. 

They  recognize  no  redeeming  influence  in 
moralizing  rebuke.  They  resent  being  patron- 
ized, even  the  most  ignorant  of  them,  unless  in 
the  prison  atmosphere  they  have  degenerated 
into  stool  pigeons.  No  one  who  condescends  to 
serve  these  prisoners  can  win  their  graces  or 
exercise  any  salutary  influence  upon  them.  They 
hunger  for  sympathy,  but  it  must  be  genuine, 
human,  warm  from  the  heart. 

The  late  Father  Michael  J.  Byrne,  of  the  fed- 
eral prison  at  Atlanta,  was  in  all  respects  the 
finest  prison  chaplain  I  have  ever  known.  I  had 
no  church  affiliation,  and  for  reasons  of  my  own 
I  rarely  attended  devotional  exercises  at  the 
chapel,  but  I  loved  Father  Byrne  and  we  would 


228  WALLS   AND   BAES 

talk  together  many  hours  in  my  little  room  in 
the  prison  hospital. 

Devotional  offerings  in  the  name  of  the  merci- 
ful Jesus,  who  loved  the  poor  and  freely  forgave 
their  sins,  on  an  altar  presided  over  by  grim 
visaged  guards  with  clubs  in  their  clutches  ready 
to  fell  the  worshippers  was  not  compatible  with 
my  sense  of  religious  worship.  Before  I  entered 
Atlanta  prison  attendance  at  chapel  was  com- 
pulsory. Almost  from  the  start  I  declined  to 
go  myself,  partly  because  of  the  hideous  mock- 
ery which  the  scene  and  setting  made  of  sincere 
worship,  and  I  think  that  as  a  result  of  my  reso- 
lute protest  the  rule  was  modified  and  attendance 
became  voluntary,  but  the  guards  with  clubs  in 
their  fists  remained. 

Father  Byrne  ministered  in  the  spirit  of  lov- 
ing service  to  all  alike,  no  matter  how  low  some 
might  seem  in  the  eyes  of  others,  and  that  is  why 
he  and  I  instantly  became  friends  and  co-oper^ 
ated  with  each  other  to  the  full  extent  that  my 
restrictions  as  a  convict  would  allow.  It  may 
seem  strange,  but  it  is  nevertheless  true,  that 
not  only  do  the  prison  rules  not  counternance  in- 
mates being  kind  and  helpful  to  each  other,  but 
on  the  contrary,  they  forbid  their  being  so,  and 
encourage  their  spying  upon,  betraying  and  hat- 
ing one  another  so  that  all  may  the  more  readily 
be  kept  in  subjection. 

In  the  prison  hospital  an  inmate  may  be  dying, 
but  the  rules  forbid  him  being  visited  by  his  fel- 


STUDIES    BEHIND   PEISON    WALLS  229 

low  prisoners ;  each  convict  must  keep  to  himself 
no  matter  how  great  may  be  his  desire  to  clasp 
the  hand  of  a  fellow  prisoner  whose  affection  he 
may  have  won  in  the  course  of  their  suffering 
and  struggling  together  against  the  cruel  and 
senseless  regulations.  This  is  one  of  the  prison 
rules  that  I  confess  violating  with  impunity.  I 
should  have  preferred  going  to  the  dungeon, 
known  in  prison  jDarlance  as  *'the  hole",  on 
bread  and  water,  rather  than  to  have  obeyed  that 
rule.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  nearly  every  prison 
rule  is  violated  by  eveiy  convict  who  stays  any 
length  of  time  in  prison.  If  he  would  remain 
a  human  being  he  must  of  necessity  break  the 
rules  in  order  to  live.  Men  cannot,  and  will  not, 
be  unsocialized  even  in  a  prison  whose  rules  at- 
tempt to  wreck  and  ruin  human  character  and  per- 
sonality in  the  quickest  possible  time  by  the 
harshest  possible  methods.  But  the  group 
l^sychology  prevails,  and  the  rules  go  by  the 
board,  though  often  at  the  expense  of  great  suf- 
fering on  the  part  of  those  who  transgress  them. 
Almost  every  prisoner  who  came  to  the  hos- 
pital expressed  an  immediate  desire  to  have  me 
come  and  see  him.  Invariably  I  did  so  as  soon 
as  iDOssible.  I  was  able  in  many  ways  by  vol- 
untary ministration  to  ease  their  suffering  and 
brio:hten  their  wret-ched  davs.  Father  Bvme  ob- 
served  a  remarkable  change  in  the  moral  atmos- 
phere of  the  hospital  after  I  entered  there.  Men 
no  longer  used  foul    language    or    told    smutty 


230  WALLS   AND   BARS 

stories.  The  relation  between  the  guards  and  in- 
mates had  completely  changed.  It  was  as  if  the 
hospital  building  was  now  occupied  by  a  har- 
monious human  family  instead  of  a  lot  of  sullen 
and  incorrigible  convicts. 

Both  the  warden  and  his  deputy  commented  on 
the  change  which  none  appreciated  more  than 
Father  Byrne. 

A  visiting  reporter  once  asked  Father  Byrne 
how  it  was  that  I  held  such  moral  power  over 
the  prisoners.  His  answer  was :  *  *  He  just  loves 
them;  he  talks  to  them  and  then  they're  differ- 
ent. There  is  something  about  him  that  wins 
and  changes  them''.  There  is  nothing  mysterious 
or  occult  about  the  ^^ something"  to  which  Father 
Byrne  referred.  It  was  merely  an  active  mani- 
festation of  human  kindness  which  all  of  us 
possess,  but  which  we  are  prone  to  smother  be- 
neath a  crust  of  indifference  to  the  suffering  of 
our  fellow  men. 

The  day  before  the  death  of  this  noble-spirited 
chaplain  he  sent  me  a  beautiful  and  touching 
telegram  congratulating  me  upon  my  release 
from  prison.  The  message  read:  ^^ Heartiest  con- 
gratulations and  well  wishes  from  your  best 
friend.  God  bless  you.  Michael  J.  Byrne, 
Catholic  Chaplain,  U.  S.  Penitentiary."  Father 
Byrne  is  at  rest.  His  memory  will  be  cherished 
by  the  thousands  of  convicts  to  whom  he  gave 
himself  as  freely  and  ministered  as  lovingly  as 


STUDIES   BEHIND   PRISON    WALLS  231 

the  Nazarene  Himself  might  have  done  in  his 
place. 

Love  and  service  constitute  the  magical  touch- 
stone; they  are,  when  fully  developed  and  truly 
expressed,  one  and  inseparable,  and  more  im- 
peratively needed  in  prison  than  in  any  other 
place  on  earth. 

There  is  where  Jesus  Christ  would  be  His  per- 
fect self  in  tender  and  sympathetic  ministration, 
and  He  would  require  neither  guns  nor  clubs  to 
protect  His  person  from  insult  or  assault. 

It  is  when  men  are  most  prosperous  in  their 
individual  pursuits  that  they  are  more  apt  to  be 
thoughtless  and  indifferent  to  the  fate  of  others, 
but  when  they  are  plunged  into  a  common  abyss 
of  misery  and  suffering  they  are  likely  to  become 
sympathetic  and  responsive  to  the  touch  of  kind- 
ness, and  there  is  more  redemptive  influence  in 
a  word  of  love  and  sympathy  than  in  all  the  harsh 
rules  ever  devised  and  all  the  brutal  clubs  ever 
wielded  to  enforce  them. 

There  was  never  a  moment  of  mine  in  Atlanta 
prison  that  was  not  mortgaged  in  advance.  Many 
of  the  prisoners  could  neither  read  nor  write, 
and  they  would  come  to  me  to  have  me  read  and 
answer  their  letters,  or  to  fill  out  their  blanks 
for  pardon,  parole  or  commutation,  although 
much  of  this  had  to  be  done  by  stealth  as  it  was 
in  violation  of  the  rules,  and  was  several  times 
arbitrarily  forbidden  by  the  guards,  especially 
when  prisoners  were  caught  leaving  my  room.   I 


232  WALLS   AND   BAES 

heard  their  sad  stories,  listened  in  sympathy  to 
their  tragic  appeals,  placed  my  hand  on  their 
shoulders  and  counselled  them  as  an  elder 
brother,  and  while  I  was  able  to  do  but  a  mere 
trifle  of  what  my  heart  would  have  done  for  them, 
I  sensed  the  appreciation  and  gratitude  that  em- 
braced the  entire  body  of  prisoners  of  all  colors, 
creeds  and  conditions. 

The  scene  that  occurred  upon  my  release  when 
these  2,300  prison  victims  clothed  as  convicts, 
yet  with  human  hearts  throbbing  beneath  their 
tatters,  spontaneously  burst  their  bonds,  as  it 
were,  rushed  to  the  fore  of  the  prison  on  all  three 
of  its  floors  and  crowded  all  the  barred  window 
spaces  with  their  eager  faces,  cheering  while  the 
tears  trickled  down  their  cheeks — this  scene  can 
never  be  described  in  words,  nor  can  it  ever  be 
forgotten  by  those  who  witnessed  that  extraor- 
dinary and  unparalleled  demonstration. 

In  that  brief  moment  prison  rules  were 
stripped  of  their  restraining  power,  and  men 
though  in  prison  fetters  gave  lusty  expression  to 
their  beautiful  human  impulses.  It  was  the  most 
deeply  touching  and  impressive  moment  and  the 
most  profoundly  dramatic  incident  of  my  life. 
Men  and  women  on  the  prison  reserv^ation,  in- 
cluding the  officials  who  bore  witness  to  that  un- 
usual scene,  stood  mute  in  their  bewilderment. 
Never  before  had  such  a  thing  occurred,  and 
never  in  the  wildest  stretch  would  it  have  been 
deemed  possible. 


STUDIES   BEHIIH)   PEISON    WALLS  233 

There  was  a  reason  for  this  unheard  of  dem- 
onstration, and  it  was  not  all  of  a  personal  na- 
ture. I  arrogate  to  myself  no  importance  what- 
ever on  account  of  having  won  the  friendship  of 
these  convicts.  They  did  vastly  more  for  me  than 
I  was  able  to  do  for  them,  and  the  only  point  I 
make  in  this  connection  is  that  if  the  prison  were 
conducted  in  the  spirit  and  with  the  understand- 
ing that  we  convicts  had  for  each  other  the  whole 
penal  system  would  at  once  be  revolutionized; 
instead  of  being  a  bastile  for  debasing  and  de- 
stroying the  unfortunate  it  would  become  in  the 
true  sense  a  boon  to  society  as  a  reclamatory  and 
redemptive  institution. 

The  prison  as  a  prison  in  the  common  accept- 
ance of  that  term  will  always  be  a  tragic  failure. 
It  is  not  only  anti-social,  but  anti-human,  and  at 
best  is  bad  enough  to  reflect  the  ignorance, 
stupidity  and  inhumanity  of  the  society  it  serves. 
But  this  is  not  to  say  that  improvement  of  the 
prison  while  it  lasts  should  be  discouraged.  On 
the  contrary,  until  the  time  comes  when  social 
offenders  are  placed  under  scientific  treatment 
instead  of  being  punished  as  criminals,  every 
effort  should  be  put  forth  to  improve  the  moral 
and  physical  condition  of  our  county  jails,  our 
state  prisons  and  our  federal  penitentiaries. 

For  myself,  I  heartily  commend  all  that  is 
being  done  to  arouse  the  people  to  a  consciousness 
of  the  festering  evils  which  now  thrive  in  these 
places.    There  needs  to  be  created  a  public  senti- 


234  WALLS   AND   BARS 

ment  that  realizes  that  for  its  own  self -protection 
the  community  must  clean  up  the  prison  as  far  as 
that  may  be  possible  and  make  it  a  place  where 
criminal  tendencies  may  be  checked  and  over- 
come instead  of  being  encouraged  and  confirmed 
as  they  now  are  to  the  ruin  of  their  immediate 
victims,  and  their  increasing  detriment  to  so- 
ciety. 

Space  will  not  permit  more  than  a  brief  sum- 
mary of  the  fundamental  changes  required  to 
humanize  the  prison. 

First  of  all,  it  should  be  taken  out  of  the  hands 
of  politicians  and  placed  under  the  supervision 
and  direction  of  a  board  of  the  humanest  of  men 
with  vision  and  understanding.  This  board 
should  have  absolute  control,  including  the  power 
of  pardon,  parole  and  commutation.  Such  a 
board  as  this  would  at  all  times  be  in  immediate 
touch  with  the  prisoners  and  have  intimate 
knowledge  of  prison  conditions  and  possibilities 
for  improvement. 

The  contract  system,  wherever  it  prevails,  is 
an  unmitigated  curse  and  should  be  summarily 
abolished. 

Prison  inmates  should  be  paid  for  their  labor 
at  the  prevailing  rate  of  wages  which  should  be 
placed  to  their  credit  in  the  books  of  the  institu- 
tion or  shared  with  their  families  so  that  when 
the  convict  is  released  he  will  not  have  to  return 
to  a  sundered  home  and  face  a  hostile  world. 


STUDIES   BEHIND   PRISON    WALLS  235 

Not  a  gun  nor  a  club  should  be  in  evidence  in- 
side the  walls. 

The  prisoners  themselves,  at  least  75  per  cent 
of  whom  are  dependable,  as  every  honest  warden 
will  admit,  should  be  organized  upon  the  basis 
of  self-government  and  have  charge  of  the  prison, 
select  their  own  subordinate  officers,  their  own 
guards,  their  shop  and  other  foremen;  establish 
their  own  rules  and  regulate  their  own  conduct 
under  the  supervision  of  the  prison  board. 

Under  such  an  organization  the  morale  of  the 
prison  would  at  once  improve,  the  spirit  of  the 
prison  would  be  humanized,  there  would  be  bet- 
ter discipline,  more  incentive  to  work,  and  better 
results  in  every  way,  and  all  at  a  greatly  reduced 
expense  to  the  community. 

There  will  be  men  to  challenge  these  proposals 
as  visionary,  if  not  vicious,  but  I  would  prefer 
nothing  more  than  the  opportunity  to  vindicate 
my  faith  in  human  nature  by  being  permitted, 
without  any  pecuniary  compensation,  to  make 
such  a  demonstration, 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


Wasting  Life. 


(Reproduced  from  the  World  Forum  for  Au- 
gust, 1922,  by  Courtesy  of  Its  Publishers.) 
If  there  is  any  surer  way,  any  more  effective 
method  of  wrecking  manhood  and  wasting  human 
life  than  our  present  penal  system  affords,  the 
Satanic  thing  has  not  come  to  my  attention. 

Six  months  have  passed  since  I  left  that  dismal 
cemetery  of  the  living  dead,  the  United  States 
Penitentiary  at  Atlanta,  and  yet  I  see  as  vividly 
and  appealingly  as  they  appeared  the  day  of  my 
departure,  the  pallid  faces  of  my  fellow-prisoners 
pressed  wistfully  against  the  steel-barred  win- 
dows of  those  gloomy  catacombs. 

The  weary  tramp  of  that  mournful  procession 
of  convicts  marching  silently,  solemnly,  inter- 
minably, back  and  forth,  back  and  forth,  still 
echoes  dolefully  in  my  ears  and  I  shall  hear,  like 
muffled  drumbeats,  the  shuffling  footfalls  of  that 
spectral  prison  host  to  the  last  hours  of  my  life. 
What  deliberate  destruction,  what  senseless 
sacrifice,  what  tragic  and  appalling  waste  of  hu- 
man life! 

If  life,  human  life,  is  the  most  precious  thing 
in  the  world,  then  the  punitive  prison  pen  is  the 
most  wicked  thing  in  the  world,  for  it  blasts  and 


WASTING  LIFE  237 

ruins,  pollutes  and  destroys  the  lives  that  are 
committed  to  its  pestilential  moral  and  physical 
atmosphere. 

I  have  seen  boys  in  their  teens  confirmed  per- 
verts and  degenerates  after  a  few  weeks  in  one 
of  those  penal  incubators  of  depravity  and  crime. 

And  I  have  concluded  in  the  light  of  my  per- 
sonal observation  of  what  the  penitentiary  does 
to  the  young  that  I  would  rather  plead  guilty  to 
murder  than  to  putting  a  boy  in  a  penitentiary 
for  some  trifling  offence  and  branding  him  a  con- 
vict for  life. 

As  a  rule  only  the  poor  go  to  prison.  The 
rich  control  the  courts  and  the  poor  populate  the 
prisons. 

Morgan  and  Rockefeller  are  strictly  law-abid- 
ing. The  hundreds  of  millions  produced  by 
others  flow  into  their  coffers  through  legal  chan- 
nels. They  would  scorn  to  steal.  They  want 
only  what  is  coming  to  them  and  they  and  their 
retainers  and  mercenaries  see  that  they  get  it 
and  that  it  keeps  coming.  As  good  Christians 
these  eminent  gentlemen  believe  the  jail  the 
proper  place  for  the  wretch  who  steals  rather 
than  starve  at  honest  work  or  hunting  a  job. 

The  wholesale  robber  acts  safely  within  the 
law  of  his  own  making;  the  legalized  looter  is 
eminently  respectable,  but  the  petty  larceny  thief 
is  a  despised  criminal  and  is  properly  sent  to  jail. 

During  the  late  war  the  government  of  the 
United  States  was  robbed    openly,    brazenly  of 


238  WALLS   AND   BARS 

billions  of  dollars  by  the  patriotic  profiteers  and 
contractors  who  precipitated  the  war  for  the  loot 
it  would  yield  them,  but  no  one  in  his  right  mind 
expects  one  of  them  to  be  sent  to  the  penitentiary. 

The  combined  stealings  and  robberies  of  all 
the  thieves,  burglars,  safe-blowers  and  highway- 
men in  the  penitentiary  at  Atlanta  would  be  but 
a  trifle  compared  to  the  loot  of  a  single  profiteer 
and  this  explains  why  the  former  are  convicted 
felons  and  the  latter  eminent  patriots  and 
philanthropists. 

There  is  a  strong  incentive  to  steal  in  a  system 
in  which  the  great  fortunes  are  uniformly 
achieved  through  monopolized  privilege  and 
legalized  spoliation  while  the  hardest  kind  of  use- 
ful work  yields  but  a  wretched  subsistence. 

In  this  system  almost  anything  pays  better 
than  honest  work  and  useful  service,  and  what 
more  natural  than  that  men  should  seek  the 
** easier  way''  to  get  a  living?  And  what  more 
inevitable  than  that  the  deluded  victims  should 
land  in  a  ghastly  prison-house,  caged  like  ani- 
mals, for  the  ** protection  of  society*'? 

If  there  is  any  one  thing  settled  beyond  ques- 
tion in  criminology  it  is  that  the  criminal,  so- 
called,  is  the  product  of  society,  and  in  caging 
him  like  a  beast,  society  in  its  blindness  and 
brutality  but  bruises  the  body  and  scars  the  soul 
of  its  ill-fated  offspring  in  punishment  for  its 
own  sins. 

In  the  nearly  four  years  I  spent  among  them 


WASTING  LIFE  239 

as  a  fellow-convict  I  came  to  know  the  inmates  of 
prisons  intimately  enough  to  believe  in  them  as 
human  beings;  to  be  convinced  that  as  a  whole 
they  are  far  more  sinned  against  than  sinning, 
and  to  be  willing  to  cast  my  lot  with  them  as 
against  the  social  cruelty  and  misunderstanding 
of  which  they  are  the  victims. 

The  following  pregnant  paragraph  quoted  from 
Lascussagne  denotes  keen  insight  and  scientific 
understanding,  and  challenges  serious  considera- 
tion: 

^'The  social  environment  is  the  cultural  me- 
dium of  criminality ;  the  criminal  is  the  microbe — 
an  element  that  becomes  important  only  when  it 
finds  a  medium  which  will  cause  it  to  ferment. 
EVERY  SOCIETY  HAS  THE  CRIMINALS  IT 
DESERVES''. 

This  means  that  society  will  have  its  criminals 
to  deal  with,  and  that  the  evil  will  become  more 
and  more  costly  and  menacing,  until  society 
ceases  producing  criminals. 

The  staggering  cost  and  the  appalling  menace 
to  society  from  that  source  were  set  forth  in 
startling  terms  in  a  treatise  on  '^Crimes  and 
Criminals''  published  by  Dr.  Lydston  twelve 
years  ago.  The  following  summary  is  taken  from 
a  magazine  review  of  that  work  by  Charles  Ers- 
kine  Scott  Wood : 

'*  Probably  the  most  astonishing  conclusion 
reached  in  the  study  of  this  book  is  that  society 
must  alter  its  cold  and  brutal  indifference  to 


240  WALLS   AND    BAKS 

crime  and  criminals  or  it  will  be  devoured  by 
criminals  just  as  the  invisible  germ  of  consump- 
tion devours  the  strong  body.  It  is  not  so  much 
a  matter  of  humanity  and  sentiment  as  it  is  one  of 
self-preservation.  Dr.  Lydston  shows  that 
though  the  population  of  the  United  States  in- 
creased only  170  per  cent  from  1850  to  1890, 
crime  increased  450  per  cent.  After  making  al- 
lowance for  the  tendency  of  legislatures  to  de- 
clare more  and  more  crimes  there  still  remains  a 
vast  increase  of  crime  out  of  proportion  to  in- 
creased population.  Professor  Charles  J.  Bush- 
nell  of  Washington,  D.  C,  says  it  is  slowly  driv- 
ing us  toward  bankruptcy,  and  calculates  that  the 
United  States  is  spending  as  a  people  Six  Billions 
a  Year  in  its  wrestle  with  crime.  Professor 
Lydston  puts  it  at  only  five  billions.  But  ia.ve 
billions  on  the  machinery  to  cope  with  crime  is 
enough  to  make  even  the  thoughtless  think.  Pro- 
fessor Lydston  admits,  too,  that  the  sum  spent 
in  private  detective  and  other  unrecorded  chan- 
nels probably  greatly  swells  the  total.  We  are 
crazy  to  spend  billions  on  armies  and  navies — • 
to  encourage  ourselves  into  war — ^but  we  give  no 
heed  to  the  mortal  disease  in  our  midst.  In  war, 
not  criminals  are  killed  off,  but  the  flower  of  the 
young  men,  leaving  the  degenerates  in  greater 
proportion  than  ever". 

This  showing  from  an  authoritative  source 
leaves  no  room  for  doubt  that  our  method  or  lack 
of  method  in  dealing  with  crime  and  criminals  is 
not  only  an  unmitigated  failure  but  is  itself  a 
crime  that   indicts    our    social    system    and   im- 


WASTING   LIFE  241 

peaches  our  civilization.  And  this  is  especially 
true  of  the  penitentiary  in  which  society  avenges 
itself  on  its  helpless  victims  by  branding  them  as 
convicts,  ofttimes  for  trivial  offences,  shutting 
them  out  from  the  world,  locking  them  up  in  steel 
cages  at  the  mercy  of  brutal  keepers  with  clubs 
and  guns  to  insult  and  intimidate  them,  to  break 
their  spirit,  and  destroy  their  manhood  and  self- 
respect. 

At  least  seventy-five  per  cent  of  the  inmates 
of  every  prison  are  not  criminals  but  have  sim- 
ply been  unfortunate,  and  every  decent  warden 
will  admit  that  they  would  at  once  retrieve  them- 
selves if  given  their  liberty  and  a  fair  chance  to 
make  good  in  the  world.  But  instead  they  are 
held  in  deadening  captivity  year  after  year,  cut 
off  from  family  and  friends,  branded  and  ostra- 
cised, compelled  to  subsist  upon  wretched  if  not 
rotten  food,  their  natural  instincts  repressed, 
their  pride  insulted,  and  outraged  until  they  are 
diseased,  perverted,  crazed,  wrecked  in  body  and 
mind,  and  to  what  purpose  that  does  not  mock 
and  blaspheme  the  Author  of  their  being? 

I  have  made  the  statement  and  I  repeat  it  here 
that  if  every  jail,  every  prison,  every  penitentiary 
in  the  land  had  its  doors  flung  wide  open  and 
every  inmate  were  given  his  liberty  the  harm  that 
would  result  to  society  would  be  vastly  less  than 
the  harm  society  now  suffers  in  wasting  the  lives 
of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  unfortunate  souls, 
breaking  up  their  homes,  wrecking  their  families, 


242  WALLS   AND   BARS 

and  launching  upon  itself  the  avenging  crime 
waves  which  threaten  it  with  destruction. 

It  is  a  pity  indeed  that  the  judge  who  puts  a 
man  in  the  penitentiary  does  not  know  what  a 
penitentiary  is.  No  one  knows  or  can  know  but 
the  inmate.  See  his  crushed  spirit,  look  into  his 
troubled  heart,  if  you  can,  and  you  may  have  some 
conception  of  what  a  penitentiary  is,  for  there  is 
where  it  leaves  its  deadly  and  everlasting  mark. 

Some  of  the  finest  men  I  ever  met  are  behind 
the  bars  of  the  Moundsville  prison  and  the  At- 
lanta penitentiary  as  convicted  felons.  The  story 
of  each  would  make  a  volume  of  tragedy.  The 
fates  conspired  to  place  them  where  they  are. 
They  are  anything  but  criminals.  I  would  rather 
be  in  their  rough  prison  shoes  than  in  the  polished 
foot  gear  of  the  judges  who  sent  them  there. 

In  the  years  I  spent  in  prison  I  associated 
freely  with  all  the  inmates  without  regard  to 
color  or  condition.  I  made  it  a  point  to  seek  out 
the  ones  known  as  the  worst  among  them,  and 
never  in  a  single  instance  in  all  that  time  was  I 
given  the  least  offence  or  did  I  hear  an  unkind 
word  from  their  lips.  I  looked  upon  them  all  as 
my  brothers  and  fellow  men  and  treated  them  ac- 
cordingly, and  they  uniformly  treated  me  in  the 
same  way.  The  poorest  among  them  were  happy 
to  have  me  share  whatever  scanty  favor  was  per- 
mitted to  come  to  them  from  the  outside.  I 
never  saw  men  more  sympathetic  and  consid- 
erate, and  I  know  that  many  of  them  would  have 


WASTING   LIFE  243 

had  their  own  sentences  extended  to  see  me  givea 
my  liberty.  Most  of  them,  poor  and  hard-work- 
ing, had  been  treated  harshly  all  their  days  and 
were  strangers  to  kindness  and  to  the  touch  of  a 
friendly  hand.  How  quickly  they  responded  to 
the  first  word  of  greeting,  how  readily  they  un- 
derstood, and  how  gladly  they  returned  kindness 
for  kindness! 

All  these  men  want  on  earth,  the  great  ma- 
jority of  them,  is  a  decent  chance  to  make  their 
way  in  the  world.  And  that  is  precisely  what 
they  are  denied  under  the  present  savage  system, 
the  punitive  spirit  of  which  still  lurks  in  the  dark 
ages  and  disgraces  our  vaunted  civilization. 

This  vast  army  of  our  fellow-beings,  given 
their  liberty,  a  fair  opportunity  and  the  right 
kind  of  encouragement,  would  at  once  retrieve 
their  standing,  walk  the  streets  good  citizens,  do 
their  share  of  useful  work,  support  their  families 
and  educate  their  children,  but  this  will  never  be 
until  the  people  are  awakened  to  the  economic 
cause  of  the  prison  problem  and  to  the  stupendous 
waste  of  human  life  inherent  in  their  blind  and 
stupid  attempt  at  reformation. 

The  entire  prison  regime  is  rank  with  its  own 
innate  putrescence.  Graft  permeates  every  pore 
of  the  system  and  the  greasy  palm  of  ** political 
pull"  is  everywhere  in  evidence. 

The  average  jail  is  a  filthy,  unsanitary  den, 
in  charge  of  a  low  grade  politician,  that  would 
hardly  make  a  decent  pigsty. 


244  WALLS   AND   BAKS 

The  average  prison  is  an  unfit  place  for  the 
detention  of  any  human  being.  The  rules  are 
cruel  and  despotic,  the  food  anything  but 
nourishing,  and  the  general  conditions  inhuman 
and  demoralizing. 

This  does  not  appear  in  the  report  of  the 
prison  inspection,  of  course,  and  I  know  nothing 
in  the  way  of  farce  that  lays  it  over  an  average 
prison  inspection. 

Society  with  its  usual  consistency  puts  a  man 
in  prison  for  stealing  and  then  proceeds  promptly 
to  rob  him  in  the  most  shameless  manner  of  the 
fruit  of  his  labor  for  the  benefit  of  some  grafting 
contractor,  while  allowing  his  family  to  face 
starvation. 

^Vhat  right  has  the  state  to  appropriate  a 
man's  daily  earnings?  To  compel  him  to  work 
without  pay  while  his  children  are  suffering  for 
bread? 

The  man  in  prison,  however,  is  better  off,  after 
all,  than  his  dependent  mother,  wife  and  children. 
It  is  the  family  the  judge  sentences  when  he  sends 
the  man  to  prison. 

Yes,  it  is  the  family  that  is  penalized,  punished 
without  mercy  though  innocent  of  offence,  and 
families  without  number  all  over  this  land  are 
thus  broken  up  and  their  members  torn  asunder, 
many  of  them  to  recruit  the  ranks  of  crime  and 
the  houses  of  shame. 

All  of  which  attests  in  overwhelming  terms  the 
frightful    waste,    the    appalling    destruction    of 


WASTING   LIFE  245 

human  life  in  the  present  system  of  administer- 
ing justice  and  dealing  with  offenders  against  the 
social  code. 

As  these  lines  are  written  the  report  comes  of 
a  sensational  scandal  at  my  penal  alma  mater, 
the  United  States  Penitentiary  at  Atlanta.  A 
^'dope  ring''  has  been  uncovered  and  a  prison 
physician  and  a  number  of  guards  are  implicated. 
Every  effort  is  being  made  to  suppress  the 
scandal.  According  to  the  reports  the  ''ring" 
furnishing  the  inmates  with  "dope"  at  ex- 
tortionate rates,  pocketing  thousands  of  dollars 
for  making  "dope  fiends"  of  young  inmates  who 
had  not  before  used  the  drug.  Let  it  be  under 
stood  that  drug  addicts  in  large  numbers  are 
sentenced  to  the  Atlanta  penitentiary  where  they 
are  supposed  to  be  reformed  of  the  pernicious 
habit.  I  am  not  surprised  at  the  report.  To  make 
drug  addicts  while  professing  to  reform  them 
would  be  quite  consistent  with  the  whole  abomni- 
able  prison  scheme  which  makes  criminals  instead 
of  reforming  them. 

If  I  were  inclined  to  lock  a  human  being  in  a 
steel  cage  under  any  circumstances  I  think  I 
should  make  it  a  penitentiary  offence  to  send  a 
human  being  to  a  penitentiary.  The  man  who 
sends  another  there  should  know  in  justice  to 
both  what  it  is  himself. 

In  recalling  some  of  my  fellow-prisoners  and 
contemplating  their  excellent  character  and 
human  qualities  I  am  reminded  of  a  prison  in- 


246  WALLS   AND    BARS 

cident  that  occurred  eight  years  ago  in  which  I 
had  an  humble  part.  The  noble  character  of  a 
convict  revealed  in  this  incident  must  be  my 
apology  for  placing  it  upon  record  here.  There 
are  men  without  number  in  prison,  to  my  per- 
sonal knowledge,  of  the  same  lofty  character  and 
tender  sensibilities  as  this  particular  convict. 

It  was  near  the  Christmas  season,  1914.  There 
was  an  organization  know  as  the  ^'Good  Fellow 
Club"  which  provided  toys  and  gifts  to  homeless 
and  friendless  children.  A  convict  in  a  state  pris- 
on at  Jackson,  Michigan,  read  of  it  and  wrote  the 
Club  as  follows: 

**I  don't  know  whether  I  would  be  considered  a 
good  fellow  or  not.  Society  has  decreed  that  I 
was  a  bad  fellow  and  has  segregated  me  for  a 
period.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  I  transgressed 
the  law  I  am  being  clothed  and  fed  and  taken 
care  of  while  hundreds  of  people,  especially  chil- 
dren whose  only  crime  is  poverty,  are  actually 
suffering  for  bare  necessities  of  life  and  through 
no  fault  of  theirs  are  facing  the  Christmas  season 
with  scant  hope  of  happiness.  I  am  sendiag  $2.00 
which  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  use  to  bring  in 
some  small  measure  gladness  to  some  little  one. 
You  need  have  no  fear  of  this  money  being 
tainted,  for  it  was  honestly  earned  at  15  cents  a 
day.  I  have  two  little  girls  of  my  own  and  while 
I  am  sending  them  their  Christmas  money,  I  am 
sure  they  will  be  glad  that  I  shared  with  some 
others  less  fortunate. 

Yours  in  Christmas  spirit, 

INMATE  9756''. 


WASTING   LIFE  247 

The  foregoing  letter  came  Tinder  my  eye  in  the 
press  dispatches  of  a  local  paper  whereupon  I 
wrote  9756  (a  few  years  later  I  came  near  having 
that  very  number  myself)  as  follows: 

Terre  Haute,  Ind.,  December  16th,  1914. 
Inmate  No.  9756,  Jackson,  Mich. 

My  dear  Brother: 

**I  do  not  know  who  you  are  but  I  have  read 
your  Christmas  letter  and  I  send  you  my  greet- 
ing with  my  heart  in  it.  You  may  be  a  convict 
but  you  are  my  brother  and  when  your  message 
came  to  me  I  was  touched  to  tears. 

There  is  more  of  the  real  religion  of  Jesusi 
Christ  in  the  spirit  you  breathe  out  to  the  world 
from  behind  your  cruel  prison  bars  than  in  all 
the  orthodox  sermons  ever  preached.  You  love 
the  little  children  even  as  He  loved  them,  and  you 
are  in  prison  while  He  was  crucified.  It  is  well 
that  you  are  patient  and  forgiving.  The  world 
moves  slowly.  It  may  still  be  said:  ^They  know 
not  what  they  do  \ 

You  had  the  misfortune  to  be  bom  in  a  world 
not  yet  civilized.  Jesus  loved  the  erring  into 
righteousness.  His  professed  followers  shut 
them  out  from  God's  sunlight  and  torture  them 
into  degeneracy  and  crime.  The  erring  did  not 
make  themselves.  God  made  them.  Let  Him 
judge  them. 

The  society  that  sent  you  to  prison  devours  its 
own  offspring.  Thousands  of  little  children  are 
starved,  stunted  and  ground  into  dividends  in  the 
mills  of  mammon.    It  is  the  Christian  society's 


248  WALLS   AND   BARS 

homeless,  neglected  babes  to  whom  yon,  one  of  its 
condemned  convicts,  feel  moved  to  send  the  pen- 
nies coined  in  your  own  blood  and  agony. 

What  a  sermon  and  what  a  rebuke! 

If  you  ought  to  be  in  the  penitentiary  I  know  not 
one  who  ought  to  be  out. 

Believe  me  with  heart  and  hand  your  brother 
and  fellow-man, 

EUGENE  V.  DEBS''. 

I  did  not  know  at  the  time  this  letter  was  writ- 
ten that  I  should  soon  be  a  convicted  and  num- 
bered felon  myself.  But  I  must  have  anticipated 
my  fate  for  I  instinctively  realized  my  kinship 
with  the  men  behind  the  bars. 

In  going  to  prison  myself  I  came  to  know  them 
well  and  why  they  are  there,  and  I  came  also  to 
realize  the  moral  obligation  resting  upon  me  to 
espouse  their  cause  and  to  wage  the  war  in  their 
behalf  against  the  vicious  system  that  robbed 
them  of  their  birthright,  blasted  their  hopes  and 
utterly  wasted  their  lives. 


